JWKBS  BARKIS' 


14C- 
Lem* 


THE  HUDSON  LIBRARY. 

Published  monthly.     Entered  as  second-class  matter.     16°, 
paper,  50  cents.     Published  also  in  cloth. 


i.  LOVE  AND  SHAWL-STRAPS. 
By  Annette  Lucille  Noble. 

a.  MISS  HURD:  AN  ENIGMA. 
By  Anna  Katharine  Qreen. 

3.  HOW  THANKFUL  WAS  BE- 
WITCHED. By  Jas.  K.  Hos- 
mer. 


A  WOMAN  OF  IMPULSE.     By 
Justin  Huntley  McCarthy. 

THE     COUNTESS     BETTINA. 

By  Clinton  ROSE. 
HER   MAJESTY.     By   Elizabeth 

Knight  Tompkins. 
GOD  FORSAKEN.     By  Frederic 

Breton. 


AN     ISLAND     PRINCESS. 
Theodore  Gift. 


By 


ELIZABETH'S  PRETENDERS. 
By  Hamilton  Aide. 

AT  TUXTER'S.  By  G.  B.  Bur- 
gin. 

CHERRYFIELD  HALL.  By  F. 
H.  Balfour. 

THE  CRIME  OF  THE  CEN- 
TURY. By  R.  Ottolengui. 

THE  THINGS  THAT  MATTER. 
By  Francis  Gribble. 

THE  HEART  OF  LIFE.  By 
W.  H.  Mallock. 

THE  BROKEN  RING.  By  Eliza- 
beth Knight  Tompkins. 

THE  STRANGE  SCHEMES  OF 
RANDOLPH  MASON.  By 
Melville  D.  Post. 

THAT  AFFAIR  NEXT  DOOR. 
By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

IN  THE  CRUCIBLE.  By  Grace 
Denio  Litchfield. 

EYES  LIKE  THE  SEA.  By 
Maurus  Jdkai. 

AN  UNCROWNED  KING.  By 
S.  C.  Grier. 

THE  PROFESSOR'S  DILEM- 
MA. By  Annette  Lucille  Noble. 

THE  WAYS  OF  LIFE.  By 
Mrs.  Olipl-.ant. 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  FAMILY. 
By  Christian  Reid. 

MARGOT.    By  Sidney  Pickering. 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  SPAR- 
ROW. By  M.  C.  Balfour. 


a6.   ELEMENTARY   JANE.     By 

Richard  Pryc«. 
97.   THE  MAN  OF  LAST  RESORT. 

By  Melville  D.  Post. 
38.   STEPHEN  WHAPSHARE.     By 

Emma  Brooke, 
ag.    LOST  MAN'S  LANE.     By  Anna 

Katharine  Green. 


30.   WHEAT 
Alien. 


IN     THE     EAR. 


31.  AS     HAVING    NOTHING.       By 

Hester  Caldwell  Oakley. 

32.  THE  CHASE  OF  AN  HEIRESS. 

By  Christian  Reid. 

33.  FINAL  PROOF.      By   Rodrjgue. 

Ottolengui. 

34.  THE    WHEEL    OF    QOD.      By 

George  Egerton. 

35.  JOHN    MARMADUKE.       By    8. 

H.  Church. 

36.  HANNAH     THURSTON.      By 

Bayard  Taylor. 

37.  YALE  YARNS.     By  J.  S.  Wood. 

38.  THE     UNTOLD    HALF.     By 

Alien. 

39.  ROSALBA.      By   Olive    P.    Ray- 

ner  (Grant  Allen). 

40.  DR.    BERKELEY'S    DISCOV- 

ERY.    By   R.    Slee   and   C.    A. 
Pratt. 

41.  ABOARD     "THE     AMERICAN 

DUCHESS."    By  Headon  Hill, 

42.  THE      PRIEST'S     MARRIAGE. 

By  Nora  Vynne. 

43.  THE    THINGS    THAT   COUNT. 

By  Elizabeth  Knight  Tompkins. 

44.  THE  LEAVENWORTH  CASE. 

By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

45.  THE    SECRET    OF    THE   CRA- 

TER.   By  Dumeld  Osborne. 

46.  LONE  PINE.     By  R.   B.  Town- 

shend. 

47.  MARKED    "PERSONAL."     By 

Anna  Katharine  Green. 

48.  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  LIFE.     By 

Ambrose  Bierce. 

49.  THE   DUPES.    By  E.  W.  Mum- 

ford. 

50.  HAND   AND    RING.       By    Anna 

Katharine  Green. 

51.  AGATHA    WEBB.      By    Anna 

Katharine  Green. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  I^ONDOK 


A  PRINCETONIAN 

A  STORY  OF  UNDERGRADUATE  LIFE  AT 
THE  COLLEGE  OF  NEW  JERSEY 


BY 

JAMES   BARNES 


AUTHOR  OF  "FOR  KING  OR  COUNTRY* 
"MIDSHIPMAN  FARRAGUT,"  BTC. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

»7   WEST  TWENTY-THIRD   STREET  24   BKDFORD    STREET,   STRAND 

Ube  ftnieberbocfeer  press 
1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1896 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  and  printed  Dec.,  1896.      Reprinted   July, 
1897.    Reprinted  Sept.,  1898.     Reprinted  Oct.,  1899,  and  June,  1901. 


Vbe  Knickerbocker  preM,  Hew  tforh 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAG* 

I.  AN  AMBITIOUS  DEPUTY  i 

II.  CARMINA  PRINCETONIA  .        .        .11 

III.  AB  INITIO 25 

IV.  QUOD  ERAT  DEMONSTRANDUM        .      32 
V.  WORK,  STUFF,  AND  NONSENSE        .      50 

VI.  A  CONVERSION        .         .         .         .71 
VII.  A  RETROSPECTION  AND  AN  INTER- 
RUPTION     75 

VIII.  THE  HERO  OF  A  TEA-FIGHT  .        .      81 

IX.  THE  YOUNG  MAN  WITH  A  PURPOSE,      98 

X.    THE  DANCE 106 

XI.  THE  BLUE  DEVILS  .        .        .        .116 

XII.  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     .        .124 

XIII.  THE    MAN    IN    THE    'VARSITY 

SWEATER 138 

XIV.  CONSEQUENCES        .        .        .        .     152 
XV.     A  CHANGE  OF  FRONT     .        .        .162 

XVI.     THE  WRONG  TACK          .        .        .179 

XVII.     SPRING  TERM          .        .        .        .187 

XVIII.    A  CHANGE  OF  PURPOSE  .        .        .196 

vii 


2061707 


Vlll 


Contents. 


CHAPTER 

RACK 

XIX. 

COMMENCEMENT 

.          209 

XX. 

A  SET  BACK 

.       220 

XXI. 

IN  HARNESS 

•       236 

XXII. 

A  PARTNERSHIP 

•       254 

XXIII. 

SURGIT  AMARI  ALIQUID     . 

.       265 

XXIV. 

PARTISANS 

•       273 

XXV. 

SENIOR  YEAR 

.       296 

XXVI. 

IN  TOWN    .... 

•       3°5 

XXVII. 

CONVALESCENT  . 

•       313 

XXVIII. 

A  HOUSE-PARTY 

.       322 

XXIX. 

PATRICK  EXPLAINS    . 

•     333 

XXX. 

A  DISCOVERY 

•     342 

XXXI. 

A  PARTING 

•     357 

XXXII. 

A  PALAVER 

.    364 

XXXIII. 

A  CALL      .... 

•     378 

XXXIV. 

IN  SEARCH  OF  REST  . 

•     393 

XXXV. 

A  FEW  DEVELOPMENTS 

.     400 

XXXVI. 

ALLIES        .... 

XXXVII. 

AMOR  VINCIT     . 

.     416 

XXXVIII. 

Two  INTERVIEWS 

•     423 

A  PRINCETONIAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AN  AMBITIOUS  DEPUTY. 

THE  combination  store  of  Van  Clees  & 
Jackson  looked  out  upon  the  huge,  empty 
square.  It  had  a  high,  false  front,  with  very 
tall  lettering  upon  it.  This  notified  people  who 
drove  into  the  town  of  Oakland  (by  any  one  of 
the  roads  that  wiggled  out  across  the  prairie) 
that  Van  Clees  &  Jackson  sold  everything 
and  anything. 

In  front  of  the  store  on  a  tall  pedestal  was  the 
only  wooden  Indian  in  town,  and  just  inside 
the  window  was  a  handsome  show-case  filled 
with  cigars  in  very  gaudy  boxes ;  next  was  a 
lamp  with  little  alcohol  tapers,  and  then  came 
the  soda-water  fountain.  But  there  was  more. 
There  were  boots  and  shoes,  and  rolls  of  cloth 


2  A  Princetonian. 

and  calico,  and  overalls,  and  jumpers,  and  cut- 
lery. The  back  part  of  the  long  room  was  per- 
meated with  the  smell  of  nails  and  ham ;  with 
the  insistent  sub-effluvia  of  oats,  of  tea,  and  of 
cinnamon.  Rows  of  brilliantly  wrapped  canned 
vegetables  lined  the  shelves,  and  beautiful 
advertising  chromos  were  tacked  up  in  conspic- 
uous places.  Anything  that  could  possibly  be 
wished  for,  could  be  bought,  and  anything  not  in 
sight,  could  be  ordered, — from  a  Walter  Wood 
reaper,  to  an  Amoskeag  fire  engine. 

It  was  a  Monday  morning,  and  it  had  been 
raining.  If  there  was  one  dismal  place  to  look 
out  upon  when  it  rained  it  was  the  town  of 
Oakland.  Through  the  obscuring  drizzle,  the 
wooden  buildings  that  surrounded  the  square 
looked  like  huge  freight  cars,  all  ready  at  a  sig- 
nal to  be  pulled  out  in  different  directions. 
The  residences  of  the  townsfolk  were  not  very 
much  in  evidence,  but  rambled  off  toward  the 
railroad  station  a  half  mile  or  more  away. 

A  big  farm  wagon  towed  by  two  plunging 
grays,  their  legs  brown  with  mud,  trundled  and 
rumbled  noisily  through  the  heavy  ruts  and 
stopped  at  Van  Clees  &  Jackson's  platform. 
A  young  man  in  a  yellow  "  slicker,"  with  a 


An  Ambitious  Deputy.  3 

beard  growing  up  to  his  eyes,  tied  the  reins  to 
the  seat  and  jumped  out.  After  an  admoni- 
tory curse  at  the  tired  horses,  he  flung  open  the 
door  and  stamped  into  the  store. 

He  peered  down  the  narrow  room. 

"  Hello,  Newt !  "  he  shouted,  leaning  over 
the  counter,  and  giving  a  fat,  gray  cat  a  poke 
with  the  butt  of  his  whip,  "  Going  to  the  dance 
this  evening?" 

This  remark  was  not  addressed  to  the  cat,  as 
might  be  supposed,  but  to  a  young  man  who  sat 
at  a  desk  with  a  tall  wooden  railing,  reading  a 
book  by  the  light  of  a  dimly  burning  lamp. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  Al,"  this  young  man 
answered,  untangling  his  legs  from  the  rungs  of 
the  high  stool.  "  Mabel  has  kinder  set  her 
heart  on  going,  so  I  suppose  I  '11  turn  up.  Are 
the  Dixon  boys  coming?  " 

"  Harry  calls  off  the  figures,  so  he  told  me," 
said  the  first  speaker,  "and  Dirk's  goin'  to  play 
the  fiddle.  Let 's  have  some  pipe-fodder.  I  'm 
run  out." 

The  clerk  walked  down  behind  the  counter, 
but,  before  he  reached  up  on  the  shelf,  the  two 
young  men  shook  hands,  without  making  any 
further  remarks  at  all. 


4  A  Princetonian. 

When  Al  had  pocketed  the  tobacco,which  was 
tied  up  in  a  long,  tight  bag  like  a  sausage,  he 
slouched  into  a  comfortable  position  and  poked 
the  gray  cat  again  ;  this  offended  her  dignity 
evidently,  for  she  slid  silently  from  the  counter 
and  dodged  behind  a  flour  barrel. 

"  The  Eagle  kinder  complimented  you  on  the 
way  you  took  Bord  McGovern  last  Wednes- 
day," said  Al,  giving  a  glance  out  across  the 
square  at  the  only  brick  building  in  town  (which 
happened  to  be  the  jail),  "  an'  Sheriff  Holly 
says  you  done  a  good  piece  of  work  too,"  he 
added. 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  "  said  the  clerk,  "  It  was  n't 
much.  Bord  did  n't  have  anything  against  me. 
He  came  along  as  peaceably  as  a  lamb." 

"  More  like  a  bull  with  a  ring  in  his  nose,  I 
reckon,"  said  the  other.  "  He  'd  swan  he  'd 
drill  a  hole  through  any  one  that  tried  to  take 
him." 

"  Changed  his  mind,  I  guess,"  was  the  calm 
rejoinder.  "  How  are  things  out  your  way  ?  " 

Al  pushed  himself  to  his  feet  and  began  but- 
toning his  long,  yellow  coat. 

"  Oh,  looking  up  a  little,"  he  answered  ;  "go- 
ing to  dig  a  new  well  this  spring." 


An  Ambitious  Deputy.  5 

"  That  so  ?  Don't  forget  to  give  us  the  order 
for  the  wind-mill,"  called  the  other. 

"  Bet  your  life  I  won't,"  said  Al,  from  the 
threshold  ;  then  he  slammed  the  door  behind 
him,  thumped  into  the  spring  seat,  and  cursed 
the  horses  into  action. 

Newton  Wilberforce  Hart,  for  that  was  the 
clerk's  name  in  full,  went  back  to  the  lamp  (it 
was  very  dark  in  the  store  on  rainy  days)  and 
opened  his  book.  It  was  an  old-fashioned  vol- 
ume and  it  gave  forth  the  attractive,  musty 
smell  that  the  bookworm  delights  in.  It  was 
written  by  somebody  (long  since  forgotten)  on 
The  Laws  of  Civil  Government.  The  young 
man  read  a  few  lines,  and  then  closed  the  book 
with  a  snap  that  sent  some  of  the  loose  way- 
bills flying  off  the  desk  lid  on  to  the  floor.  He 
picked  them  carefully  up,  and,  turning  down 
the  lamp,  walked  to  the  front  of  the  store. 
Two  months  before  he  had  been  appointed 
deputy  sheriff,  and  had  signalized  his  appoint- 
ment immediately  by  taking  into  custody  Mr. 
Bord  McGovern,  who,  after  committing  various 
offences  great  and  small,  had  long  defied  the 
authorities  along  the  Platte  River  ;  the  gentle- 
man's last  little  venture  being  the  wounding  of 


6  A  Princetonian. 

a  United  States  Marshal,  who  objected  to  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  McGovern  dispensed  bad 
corn  whiskey  at  his  State-line  shanty. 

It  would  have  pleased  most  men,  or  women, 
for  that  matter,  who  studied  character,  to  look 
at  Messrs.  Van  Clees  and  Jackson's  chief  clerk. 
He  had  a  great  pair  of  shoulders,  and  a  broad, 
flat  back ;  his  face  was  not  handsome,  but  his 
eyes  were  well  set  in  his  head  ;  his  thick  hair 
rose  straight  from  his  forehead  and  waved 
slightly  at  the  top,  much  in  the  manner  that 
we  see  affected  in  portraits  of  the  early  part  of 
the  century.  His  face  was  smooth-shaven, 
which  was  out  of  the  usual  run  in  a  place  where 
the  barber  always  complimented  the  young 
men  on  their  mustaches,  but  it  had  the  blue- 
black  appearance  of  a  heavy  growth  of  beard. 
Mr.  Hart's  mouth  was  straight  and  very 
strong ;  he  stood  a  shade  over  six  feet  in  his 
boots,  and  the  scales  in  the  back  of  the  store 
had  shown  his  weight  to  be  one  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds  with  his  coat  off.  He  was 
twenty-three  years  old. 

A  year  before,  when  he  had  been  teaching 
the  school  at  the  Junction,  he  had  first  made  a 
name  for  himself  by  bumping  two  of  the  schol- 


An  Ambitious  Deputy.  7 

ars'  heads  together,  and  compelling  the  largest, 
a  husky  youth  of  nineteen,  to  write,  "  I  will  be 
a  good  boy,"  twenty  times  on  the  black-board. 
As  the  failure  of  the  Junction  school  had  been 
attributed  to  the  muscular  resistance  made  by 
this  youth  and  his  companions  to  the  introduc- 
tion of  knowledge  thereabouts,  the  committee 
had  upheld  Mr.  Hart,  and,  strange  to  say,  the 
unruly  scholars  had  become  his  friends  and 
admirers.  It  was  one  of  these  who  was  going  to 
call  off  the  figures  at  the  coming  dance. 

As  he  stood  looking  into  the  rain,  the  deputy 
sheriff  was  thinking  things  over.  He  realized 
the  difficulties  which  confronted  him  ;  it  was 
his  ambition  to  become  a  member  of  the  bar  of 
the  State  of  Nebraska,  but  the  obstacles  that 
arose  before  his  vision  were  great  and  many  ; 
the  necessity  of  knowledge  never  appeared  so 
strong  as  it  had  in  the  last  few  weeks. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  clattering  on  the  rick- 
ety stairway  that  led  down  from  the  second 
floor.  Hart  recognized  the  footsteps,  and  sang 
out,  "  Hullo ! "  without  turning  to  see  who  it 
was. 

The  Van  Clees  lived  up  above,  and  Hart's 
courtship  of  the  buxom  daughter  of  the  senior 


8  A  Princetonian. 

member  had  been  conducted  at  first  by  conver- 
sations up  the  stairway,  but,  after  the  capture 
of  Bord  McGovern,  Mabel's  heart  had  softened, 
and  Van  Clees,  greatly  delighted,  had  accepted 
his  clerk  as  his  future  son-in-law.  It  was  father 
Van  Clees  himself  who  was  coming  down  the 
stairway.  Odd  to  remark,  Mr.  Hart  called  his 
employer  by  a  nick-name. 

"  I  say,  Van,"  he  said,  "  we  '11  have  to  get  a 
boom  on  this  town  somehow.  Did  you  ever 
see  anything  so  dead  as  that  ?  " 

He  nodded  his  head  toward  the  square,  where 
two  or  three  spectral-looking  horses,  tied  to  a 
well-gnawed  hitching  post,  were  the  only  living 
things  in  sight. 

"  There  was  a  man  here  last  week  going  to 
put  in  a  lumber  yard,"  said  Mr.  Van  Clees, 
yawning,  and  taking  a  position  by  his  clerk's 
side.  "  Look  here,  Newt,  how  would  you  like 
to  go  to  Omaha  to-morrow,  and  buy  a  bill  of 
goods  ?  I  think  we  could  do  better  than  order- 
ing by  mail.  Look  at  them  cheeses  last  week." 

"  Why,  certainly,  I  will  go,"  said  Hart,  turn- 
ing. "  There  are  some  things  I  would  like  to 
get  there  too."  He  had  in  his  mind  a  ring 
among  the  other  things. 


An  Ambitious  Deputy.  9 

"  Newt !  Oh,  Newt !  "  came  a  voice  down  the 
stairway. 

Mr.  Van  Clees  jerked  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  She  's  kinder  anxious  about  the  dance  to- 
night; wants  to  know  what  to  wear." 

Hart  moved  quickly  back  to  the  stairs,  and, 
after  some  conversation  in  a  low  voice,  trotted 
up  to  the  second  story.  The  older  man  smiled 
contentedly.  It  would  be  a  relief  to  him  to 
have  his  daughter  married.  To  tell  the  truth, 
she  had  a  will  of  her  own,  and  had  displayed  a 
partiality  for  somehow  getting  into  conversa- 
tion with  the  drummers,  and  Mr.  Van  Clees 
distrusted  the  travelling  fraternity,  having  an 
opinion  of  his  own  concerning  their  habits  and 
their  general  ideas  about  young  women.  With 
the  aid  of  the  village  dressmaker  and  the  fashion 
papers,  Miss  Van  Clees  had  long  been  renowned 
as  the  best-dressed  girl  in  town.  But  the  father 
hoped  that  the  cares  of  matrimony  would  tone 
her  down  as  a  mere  matter  of  economy. 

It  might  be  well  to  say  that  "  Jackson," 
whose  name  appeared  upon  the  advertisements 
of  the  store,  was  a  silent  partner  who  lived 
some  thirty  miles  away  at  Plattemouth,  whence 


io  A  Princetonian. 

he  shipped  cattle  and  hogs  to  the  hungry  East. 
The  prospective  father-in-law  was  wording  in 
his  mind  a  letter  to  his  partner,  telling  him  the 
news  of  Mabel's  engagement,  when  a  woman 
with  a  wet  shawl  around  her  head,  and  a  basket 
upon  her  arm,  entered  the  store. 

Mr.  Van  Clees  dropped  his  cogitations  to  sell 
her  a  side  of  bacon. 


-  CHAPTER  II. 

CARMINA  PRINCETONIA. 

'  THERE  was  a  long  Pullman  sleeping-car  rest- 
ing on  the  side-track  in  the  Omaha  freight 
yards.  A  banner  that  stretched  along  the  side 
had  the  word  "  Princeton "  upon  it  in  black 
letters  on  an  orange  background. 

Inside  there  was  a  great  deal  of  hubbub  and 
confusion.  Young  men  were  dressing  in  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  car,  that  was  thick  with  clouds 
of  tobacco  smoke,  and  there  was  the  sound  of 
the  tuning  of  banjos. 

"  Great  Snakes  !  I  '11  have  to  buy  a  shirt  be- 
fore I  go  on  the  stage  to-night !  "  said  a  young 
man,  who  had  upset  the  contents  of  a  dress-suit 
case  on  a  seat  by  the  window.  "  Biff  Wain- 
wright  did  n't  do  anything  to  this  last  night, — 
only  stepped  on  it  when  he  got  into  the  bunk. 
It  looks  like  a  hoop  after  a  circus  lady  is 
through  with  it,  does  n't  it,  eh  ?  " 


12  A  Princetonian. 

"  Oh,  you  are  too  particular,  Bliss,"  returned 
a  good-looking  chap  with  a  Southern  drawl. 
"Who's  seen  my  studs?  I  hope  there'll  be 
some  pretty  girls  there  to-night." 

"  Say,  I  'd  like  to  get  into  Hollingsworth's 
trunk,"  remarked  Bliss.  "  These  heelers  take 
too  much  room  anyhow.  He  's  got  a  wash- 
line  full  of  shirts.  It 's  enough  to  make  him 
bilious." 

John  Hollingsworth,  who  was  already  dressed 
in  an  immaculate  suit,  closed  the  trunk  lid  with 
a  snap. 

"  Go  to  thunder  !  "  he  said  ;  "  wear  your  own 
shirts."  Then  he  turned  to  the  looking-glass, 
and  brazenly  inspected  his  shadowy  mustache. 

"  If  you  get  on  the  wrong  key  to-night, 
Tommy  Wilson,"  said  Emory  Smith,  the  Glee 
Club  leader,  knocking  a  short  youth  on  the  top 
of  the  head  with  his  ebony  baton,  "  I  '11  have 
you  sued  for  breach  of  contract." 

"  He  '11  be  sued  for  breach  of  promise  before 
he  gets  through  with  this  trip,"  said  a  deep 
bass  voice  from  another  compartment.  "  The 
way  he  carried  on  with  that  little  yaller-haired 
thing  at  Kansas  City  was  scandalous.  Let 's 
chain  him  up  to-night." 


Carmina  Princetonia.  13 

"  Chain  nothing,"  said  Tommy  Wilson,  who 
had  the  mobile  face  of  the  comedian,  and  a 
twinkle  in  his  eyes  that  never  failed  to  catch  his 
audience.  "  You  fellows  are  jest  jealous.  Now 
we  handsome  men " 

"  Oh,  shut  up  !  "  said  one  of  the  banjo  play- 
ers. "  If  you  don't  get  a  move  on  you,  and  get 
dressed,  Tommy,  you  '11  be  late  again.  Then 
the  '  gentleman  of  the  cash  box  '  will  throw  a 
fine  at  you." 

At  this,  a  tall,  rather  sleepy-looking  youth 
turned  about.  He  put  a  finishing  touch  to  his 
white  tie,  and  came  down  the  aisle  of  the  car. 

"  Now  I  want  all  you  fellows  to  be  witnesses," 
he  said,  "  that  I  have  bought  Tommy  a  pair  of 
suspenders.  He  had  on  the  porter's  last 
night." 

"  Oh,  but  they  were  giddy,"  said  Tommy, 
"  kinder  hated  to  give  'em  up  ;  brought  me 
luck." 

But  he  took  the  ones  Manager  Bishop  handed 
him,  objecting  strongly,  however,  to  the  style, 
"because  they  did  not  have  a  flower  garden  on 
'em." 

"  There  's  one  of  our  posters,"  said  some  one, 
looking  out  of  the  window,  and  pointing  to  a 


14  A  Princetonian. 

bill-board  fence.  "  Read  as  you  run :  '  Con- 
cert!  Princeton  College  Glee  and  Banjo 
Clubs  ! '"  he  quoted  ;  then  he  added  :  "  Come 
one  ;  come  all ;  bring  your  children  ;  make  the 
little  tots  happy — you  don't  word  these  things 
right,  Manager  !  You  should  star  the  perform- 
ers like  Tommy  here,  and  have  a  street  parade 
in  advance,  and  you  have  n't  said  anything 
about  the  '  Maudlin  Club '  at  all.  Oh,  I  tell 
you,  I  have  a  head  like  a  tack." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  banjos  and  mandolins 
were  placed  in  their  leather  cases,  and,  leaving 
the  porter  (who  promptly  went  to  bed  in  the 
most  comfortable  bunk)  in  sole  charge  of  the 
car,  the  party  of  well  dressed  and  gaily  hilari- 
ous young  men  crossed  the  freight  yard,  and 
wended  their  way  toward  the  big  hotel  near 
the  opera  house,  at  which  the  concert  was  to 
be  given. 

"  Newton  Wilberforce  Hart,"  read  the  mana- 
ger, from  the  hotel  register.  There  it  was 
written  in  a  round,  strong  hand  that  was  more 
or  less  characteristic  of  Mr.  Hart's  personal 
appearance. 

The  latter  had  arrived  only  a  few  minutes 
before  the  Glee  Club  came  into  the  hotel ;  he 


Carmina  Princetonia.  1 5 

had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  go  to  the 
theatre  that  night,  if  there  was  anything  in 
town,  and  the  big  posters  of  the  college  enter- 
tainment outside  the  hotel  door  had  caught 
his  eye.  But  he  had  not  decided,  and  being 
very  hungry  he  had  gone  into  the  dining-room 
and  had  taken  a  seat  in  the  corner,  when  he 
heard  the  sound  of  men's  voices  talking  to- 
gether, as  the  Glee  Club  entered  in  a  body. 

They  excited  a  great  deal  of  interest  among 
the  other  guests  of  the  hotel,  and  Hart,  who 
had  his  napkin  tucked  in  at  his  collar  and 
spread  across  his  broad  chest,  found  himself 
watching  them  attentively.  He  had  the  West- 
erner's contempt  for  the  East,  and  had  placed 
the  college  graduate  in  a  category  of  his  own. 
Although  he  had  never  been  thrown  in  contact 
with  the  type,  he  was  prejudiced  entirely  in 
the  matter,  thinking  that  the  college  man  was 
apt  to  be  self-satisfied,  assuming,  and  somewhat 
useless. 

But  there  were  two  or  three  young  men  at 
the  table  whose  shoulders  were  quite  as  broad 
as  his  own,  and  whom  the  deputy  sheriff  would 
have  picked  out  in  an  instant  as  bad  men  to 
handle  in  a  "  rough-and-tumble."  Besides  this, 


1 6  A  Princetonian. 

they  minded  their  own  business,  and,  although 
their  good  spirits  were  evident,  their  manners 
were  very  different  from  those  of  a  travelling 
minstrel  show  that  he  had  once  seen  at  this 
same  hotel.  The  head  waiter  bowed  them  out 
of  the  room  with  a  graciousness  that  was  differ- 
ent from  his  usual  condescension.  Hart  had 
secretly  admired  their  well-fitting  clothes,  and, 
noticing  that  they  did  not  have  their  napkins 
tucked  around  their  necks,  he  had  pulled  his 
down  into  his  lap. 

When  he  went  out  into  the  rotunda  of  the 
hotel,  he  found  himself  at  the  cigar  counter  at 
the  same  moment  with  a  young  man  of  almost 
his  own  age  who  said,  "  After  you,"  politely, 
as  both  reached  forward  toward  the  match 
safe.  Hart  was  not  bashful,  and  the  remark 
had  broken  the  ice.  He  struck  a  match  and 
held  it  for  the  other  to  light  his  cigar.  "  Where 
can  I  get  a  ticket  for  your  show  to-night?"  he 
inquired. 

"  At  the  Opera  House,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  know,"  said  Hart,  "  but  what 
you  sent  out  invitations,  or  something." 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  "  we  are  just  like  any 
other  show,  and  have  to  run  the  same  chances." 


Carmina  Princetonia.  1 7 

"  I  did  n't  know  but  that  your  Alumni  helped 
you,"  said  Hart,  who  knew  he  used  the  word 
correctly. 

"  Oh,  they  do, — once  a  college  man,  always  a 
college  man,"  was  the  response.  "  I  hope 
you  '11  come."  He  nodded  pleasantly,  and 
walked  away  toward  a  group  that  was  seated 
in  a  corner. 

The  manager  was  acting  as  whipper-in  and 
was  gathering  the  clan,  as  it  were,  preparatory 
to  starting.  Hart  followed  them  to  the  Opera 
House  and  bought  his  ticket  from  a  business- 
like young  chap,  who  assumed  the  position  of 
agent  behind  the  little  glass  window.  When 
he  entered  the  orchestra  circle,  he  was  shown 
politely  to  his  seat  by  another  of  the  young 
men  he  had  recognized  as  one  of  the  party  at 
table. 

Soon  the  big  hall  began  to  fill. 

Never  in  his  life  had  the  young  deputy  sheriff 
seen  so  many  well  dressed  people  together. 
There  was  a  chatter  and  hum  of  conversation 
that  was  confounding ;  people  bowed  and 
nodded  to  one  another,  and  the  young  men 
who  were  acting  as  ushers  stopped  and  spoke 
to  many  of  the  girls.  Every  one  appeared  to 


1 8  A  Princetonian. 

expect  a  good  time.  There  was  nothing  of  the 
sitting-in-judgment  that  Hart  had  noticed  in 
the  audiences  of  the  few  entertainments  he 
had  attended.  It  was  all  very  new  to  him. 

Soon  the  curtain  went  up,  and  the  white- 
fronted  little  army  marched  out  from  the  wings. 
It  was  not  like  the  minstrel  show  at  all ;  they 
appeared  really  quite  dignified  and  much  at 
their  ease  as  they  formed  in  line  at  the  centre 
of  the  stage.  The  leader  stood  in  front.  He 
gave  a  little  toot  with  something  like  a  penny 
whistle  that  he  had  in  his  hand  ;  made  two  or 
three  flourishes  with  his  baton,  and  at  once  the 
young  men  burst  out  into  a  marching  chorus 
with  a  swing  and  spirit  that  set  Hart's  feet  to 
keeping  time.  He  looked  at  the  program  and 
found  that  the  words  of  the  first  song  were 
printed  there  in  full.  He  read  them  as  the 
song  went  on : 

"  Tune  every  heart  and  every  voice, 

Bid  every  care  withdraw, 

Let  all  with  one  accord  rejoice 

In  praise  of  old  Nassau  !  " 

And  so  it  went.  The  music  stirred  with  the 
words,  and  at  the  end  Hart  found  himself 
applauding  as  loudly  as  the  old  gentleman 


Carmina  Princetonia.  19 

behind  him  who  had  brought  his  daughters  to 
hear  the  old  song  again. 

"  They  sing  it  a  little  faster  than  they  used 
to,"  the  old  gentleman  remarked. 

But,  hold  !     They  were  all  back  again. 

The  encore  was  not  printed,  but  Hart  caught 
the  words : 

"  Through  the  four  long  years  of  college, 

'Midst  the  scenes  we  loved  so  well, 
Where  the  mystic  charm  to  knowledge 
We  vainly  seek  to  spell." 

"  Mystic  charm  to  knowledge "  touched  a 
chord  in  Mr.  Hart's  bosom.  What  would  he 
not  give  to  have  the  advantages  that  these 
young  men  evidently  seemed  to  appreciate. 
A  desire  to  learn  more  about  it  all  came  to  his 
mind.  But  the  Glee  Club  had  left  the  stage, 
and  the  men  with  the  banjos  were  coming  on. 
They  each  dragged  forward  a  chair  from  the 
back  of  the  scenery  and  seated  themselves. 
Now  it  was  more  like  the  minstrel  show.  They 
did  not  all  strike  the  same  attitudes  (in  fact, 
some  were  not  very  graceful).  However,  it 
was  a  rattling  good  jig  they  played,  and  Hart 
thought  it  would  have  delighted  the  Dixon 
boys  to  have  heard  it. 


20  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  '11  get  the  music  of  that,"  he  said  to  him- 
self,  "  and  have  Dirk  learn  it." 

Then  Mr.  Hart  thought  how  much  Mabel 
would  enjoy  being  there  with  him.  The  pros- 
pects, however,  were  that  he  never  might  have 
the  pleasure  of  going  to  another  entertainment 
like  this,  and  the  dreary  square  of  Oakland 
rose  up  before  him. 

But  despite  this,  and  to  make  it  short,  Mr. 
Hart  enjoyed  the  evening  hugely.  He  laughed 
at  "  The  Owl  and  the  Pussy  Cat "  and  "  Mary's 
Little  Lamb  "  with  the  "  Ba,  ba"  chorus.  He 
enjoyed  the  tinkling  of  the  mandolins  and 
Tommy  Wilson's  tale  about  a  man  who  fell  up 
or  down  three  flights  of  stairs,  and  he  was 
tickled  to  death  at  Tommy's  imitation  of  a 
hee-hawing  donkey,  and  wanted  to  tell  him 
how  good  it  was. 

At  last  it  was  all  over,  and  he  drifted  out 
with  the  audience,  and  went  back  to  the  hotel. 
There,  in  the  corridor,  he  again  met  his  friend 
with  whom  he  had  exchanged  the  few  remarks 
after  dinner. 

"  Best  show  I  ever  saw,"  he  said.  "  You 
won't  mind  my  asking  you  some  questions, 
will  you  ?  " 


Carmina  Princetonia.  21 

"  Why,  no,"  said  the  other,  "  fire  away." 

"  Could  you  tell  me  how  much  it  costs  to  go 
to  college  ?  "  (Mr.  Hart  flushed  at  the  idea  of 
his  going  to  college.) 

"  Well,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  I  came 
there  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and 
mud  on  my  boots.  But  it  all  depends." 

"  I  suppose  I  'd  be  too  old  to  go  to  school 
now,"  suggested  Mr.  Hart. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  other, "  I  worked 
on  a  farm  five  years  before  I  thought  of  going. 
If  I  'd  known  what  it  was  going  to  be,  I  'd  have 
worked  five  years  longer  rather  than  have  given 
it  up." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Hart. 

"  If  you  '11  let  me  have  your  address,  I  '11  send 
you  some  books  on  the  subject,"  the  college 
man  continued.  "  But,  hold  on,"  he  exclaimed, 
come  down  to  the  car,  and  see  how  we  live. — 
My  name  's  Franklin." 

"  My  name 's  Hart." 

They  shook  hands. 

"  I  '11  introduce  you  to  some  of  the  boys," 
said  Franklin. 

Hart  was  delighted,  and  they  left  the  hotel 
and  walked  toward  the  car.  All  the  way  down 


22  A  Princetonian. 

the  dark  street  they  chattered,  and  at  last  they 
reached  the  freight  yard  and  stumbled  out 
across  the  tracks. 

"  Why,  I  was  a  '  Long-horn,'  a  regular  hay- 
seed, when  I  came  to  college,"  said  Franklin, 
continuing  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 
"  Seems  a  long  time  ago,  but  it 's  only  four 
years.  Take  care  of  that  switch-bar,  it  nearly 
broke  my  leg!" 

"  Thank  you.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
when  you  leave  ?  "  asked  Hart,  who  had  allowed 
his  new  friend  to  lead  the  way. 

"Don't  know,  exactly,"  Franklin  returned. 
"All  I  want  is  the  chance." 

"  That 's  what  I  've  said  for  a  long  time,"  re- 
plied Hart,  "  but  chances  are  not  lying  loose  in 
the  place  from  which  I  come.  I  am  afraid,"  he 
added,  retrospectively,  "  it 's  a  one-horse  town." 

When  the  two  entered  the  Glee  Club  car 
(which  they  found  had  been  moved  down  the 
track),  there  were  only  a  few  of  the  members 
present,  most  of  them  having  stayed  up  in  the 
town  to  attend  a  small  reception  given  by  one 
of  the  Alumni. 

Mr.  Hart's  guide  introduced  him  to  four  or 
five  young  fellows,  who,  Hart  noticed,  did  not 


Carmina  Princetonia.  23 

have  their  hair  parted  in  the  middle  (he  had 
considered  this  fashion  characteristic  of  college 
men  in  general)  ;  they  welcomed  him,  and  soon 
he  was  smoking  and  joining  in  the  talking. 
Tommy  Wilson  had  not  stayed  for  the  recep- 
tion, and  Hart  congratulated  him  on  his  solo ; 
expressing  pleasure  at  the  songs  he  had  heard  ; 
he  was  immediately  presented  with  a  book  con- 
taining them  with  the  notes  and  music,  and 
when  he  had  shown  his  admiration  for  the  jig 
the  banjoists  had  played,  one  of  the  latter  pro- 
posed copying  it,  and  promised  to  send  it  to 
him.  Altogether,  Mr.  Hart  had  a  very  fine 
evening,  and  when  he  left  the  car  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  talk  a  certain  idea  over  with  his 
prospective  father-in-law,  and  also  see  what 
Mabel  thought  of  it. 

As  soon  as  their  guest  had  left,  Ned  Bliss 
thrust  his  head  out  from  his  bunk. 

"  If  those  wild  Indians  make  any  noise  when 
they  come  in  to-night,  let 's  chloroform  them," 
he  remarked.  "  But  I  say,  Buck  "  (this  was 
addressed  to  Franklin),  "  that  was  a  mighty  nice 
chap,  that  prairie  friend  of  yours." 

Franklin  responded  sleepily  from  behind  the 
curtain. 


24  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  think  I  sized  him  up  about  right,"  he 
said.  "  He  's  got  the  proper  stuff  in  him, — and 
what  is  more,  I  think  he  'd  play  football." 

"  Did  you  notice  his  neck  ?  "  asked  the  ban- 
jo player,  who  was  putting  his  eyes  out  trying 
to  read  in  an  upper  berth.  "  He  's  a  second 
Hector, — am  I  right,  or  am  I  right  ?  " 

The  sound  of  voices  was  heard  outside  just 
then,  and  a  detachment  of  the  club  came  in. 
They  evidently  did  not  feel  in  the  mood  for 
"  wild  Indian  "  antics,  for,  seeing  that  the  others 
were  apparently  asleep,  they  went  to  bed  quietly 
themselves  which  was  wonderful  to  relate. 

Buck  Franklin  was  as  good  as  his  word,  how- 
ever, and  in  three  weeks'  time,  Newton  Wilber- 
force  Hart  received  a  package  by  mail.  It  was 
some  old  entrance  examination  papers,  notes 
on  text-books,  and  a  catalogue  of  the  Univer- 
sity. It  was  this  that  caused  him  to  broach 
the  subject  seriously  to  Mr.  Van  Clees,  with  the 
result  that  he  was  left  to  decide  matters  for 
himself, — the  usual  method  in  such  cases. 
Mabel  had  at  first  objected,  but  had  suddenly 
changed  her  mind  in  rather  an  unaccountable 
way. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AB    INITIO. 

ON  the  way  up  from  Princeton  Junction  as 
the  engine  coughed  and  choked  along  the 
marvellous  grade,  and  slid  with  a  grasp  about 
the  next-to-impossible  curves,  Simeon  Tolker 
Congreve,  aged  eighteen,  gazed  up  and  down 
the  car  and  heartily  wished  that  his  mother  had 
not  insisted  upon  accompanying  him. 

"  It  makes  one  feel  so  awful  young,"  Simeon 
was  thinking.  "  It 's  more  like  going  to  board- 
ing school  than  college." 

But  he  took  heart  when  he  saw  a  sweet-faced 
matron  sitting  just  in  front  of  him  carefully  re- 
arrange the  neck-tie  of  a  tall  young  man  with 
a  tendency  to  growing  whiskers. 

"  I  '11  bet  a  bean,"  said  Mr.  Congreve  to  him- 
self, resting  his  eye  on  the  occupants  of  the 
corner  seat,  "  that  those  two  fellows  [they  had 
smiled  at  the  neck-tie  affair]  are  sophomores." 
25 


26  A  Princetonian. 

It  was  no  credit  to  Simeon's  discernment  to 
make  this  statement.  One  of  the  youths  he 
looked  at  so  enviously  had  the  sophomoric  ear- 
marks, and  the  other  had  a  new  hat-box  with 
his  initials  plainly  marked  on  the  top,  which 
would  have  pronounced  him  a  junior  to  the 
initiated.  Each,  however,  carried  a  silver- 
headed  stick. 

"  There  's  my  old  room,"  spoke  up  one  of 
these  two  as  Witherspoon  Hall  came  into  sight. 
He  made  this  remark  with  the  air  of  returning 
as  an  old  man  to  the  haunts  of  his  youth. 

"  I  wired  Hiram  to  meet  me  at  the  station 
and  take  my  bags,"  said  the  other.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  the  freshmen  ?  " 

They  glanced  boldly  into  the  faces  that  lined 
both  sides  of  the  car. 

"  Fruit,"  said  one  of  them.  "  Did  you 
notice  the  big  fellow  down  the  aisle  ?  He 
looks  as  if  he  might  play  football,  don't  you 
think  ?  " 

"  Pretty  good  build  for  it,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

Mr.  Congreve,  who  had  overheard  the  con- 
versation, turned  about.  Directly  behind  him 
sat  a  broad-shouldered  figure.  The  little  black 
satin  tie  caught  under  the  bone  collar  button 


Ab  Initio.  2  7 

and  the  cheap  straw  hat  could  not  detract  from 
the  resolute  look  on  the  sun-browned  face  of 
the  young  man  who  gazed  thoughtfully  out  of 
the  window. 

"  Hoosier,"  remarked  the  sophomore,  who 
had  said  "  fruit  "  before. 

"  Yeppy,"  was  the  answer.  "  Here  we  are  in 
a  minute  at  the  station,  old  chap." 

After  a  final  struggle  to  catch  its  breath,  the 
engine  slid  along  the  wooden  platform  and  came 
to  a  stop. 

Simeon  helped  his  mother  down  the  steps 
and  noticed  as  he  did  so  that  the  young  man 
with  the  black  tie  was  directly  behind  him. 
Firmly  grasped  in  his  big-knuckled  right  hand 
was  a  brand  new  imitation  leather  bag — the 
kind  peddlers  carry, — and  a  worn  paper  bundle 
was  under  his  arm. 

"  We  had  better  call  on  the  President  first," 
said  Mrs.  Congreve,  brushing  the  dust  from  her 
sleeves,  and  giving  her  son's  shoulder  a  tap. 
"  I  want  to  meet  him.  You  must  have  a  dry, 
airy  room,  Simeon,  dear." 

There  were  a  number  of  youths  in  orange- 
and-black  caps  waiting  at  the  station.  When 
they  saw  the  two  young  men,  who  carried 


28  A  Princetonian. 

walking  sticks,  they  came  up  and  slapped  them 
on  the  back. 

"Hullo,  Jack— Hullo,  old  boy— Hullo,  Clark 
—  Hullo,  fellows  !  Hullo,  Hollingsworth  !  " 
There  was  a  studied  carelessness  in  the  dress 
of  the  welcomers  and  a  pronounced  partiality 
for  pipe-smoking  and  corduroy  trousers. 

The  freshmen  stepped  about  them  quite  con- 
scious of  being  contemptuously  gazed  upon, 
and  the  noisy  hackmen  gobbled  up  bags  and 
boxes.  Two  short  Jehus  with  fat,  bull-dog 
faces  called  the  sophomores  by  name  and 
were  scorned  in  return  for  it.  Some  colored 
room-servants  were  waiting  also  to  take  up 
anything  thrown  at  them.  "  Hiram "  was 
conspicuous. 

As  the  train  backed  out  like  a  ferry-boat  from 
a  slip,  the  broad-shouldered  stranger  with  the 
paper  bundle  was  left  standing  alone. 

The  group  of  young  men  in  orange-and-black 
caps  had  given  a  cheer  for  something  or  other, 
and  now  gathered  about  the  tall  figure. 

"  Glad  to  see  ye  in  taeown,"  said  one  of  the 
corduroy-clad  young  gentlemen  with  a  good 
imitation  of  a  "  Shore  Acre  "  accent. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  "  Hoosier,"  look- 


Ab  Initio.  29 

ing  up  at  the  campus.  "  Can  you  tell  me  where 
I  would  find  the  college  officers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  was  the  answer,  "  we  are  all 
going  over  that  way.  Have  you  come  to  pay 
our  honored  college  a  visit,  or  do  you  intend  to 
enroll  your  name  as  an  applicant  for  the  degree 
of  A.S.S.?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  broad-shouldered 
young  man,  who  towered  above  the  crowd 
around  him,  "  I  Ve  come  to  try  for  the  exami- 
nations." 

A  fox  terrier  with  a  roguish  black  eye  had 
been  sniffing  around  his  trousers.  He  bent 
down  and  patted  the  dog  as  he  picked  up  his 
bag. 

"  You  had  a  very  narrow  escape  with  your 
life,"  said  another  young  man,  who  had  drawn 
back  with  an  assumption  of  horror,  "  that  dog 
likes  fresh  meat." 

"  Pooh  !  He  looks  good-natured,"  said  the 
"  Hoosier,"  tweaking  the  dog's  ear.  He  did 
not  seem  to  be  at  all  overcome  by  his  sur- 
roundings. 

The  party  crossed  a  desert  of  cinders  and 
loose  gravel  and  climbed  some  worn  stone  steps 
up  to  the  campus. 


30  A  Princetonian. 

"  What  building  is  that,  sir  ? "  asked  the 
freshman,  looking  at  the  great  mass  of  Wither- 
spoon,  in  whose  windows  could  be  seen  seated 
a  number  of  flannel-clad  figures  who  shouted 
down  to  the  group  on  the  path. 

"That  's  Gee- Whiz  Hall.  You  had  better 
apply  for  a  room  there.  Don't  let  'em  bluff 
you.  Insist  on  getting  one.  What  State  are 
you  from  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I  'm  from  Nebraska.  West- 
ern part — Oakland.  Guess  you  never  heard 
of  it." 

Baiting  a  freshman  who  was  so  oblivious  to 
his  terrible  position  afforded  little  pleasure  to 
his  inquisitors,  and,  besides,  he  was  so  big  that 
there  was  not  much  fun  in  it  any  way.  Some 
one  pointed  out  the  college  offices,  and  the 
group  left  him. 

"  That  fellow  's  no  fool,  I  can  tell  you,"  said 
one. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  neck  and  shoulders 
in  your  life,  and  he  's  got  a  hand  like  a  ham," 
said  another. 

"  Perhaps  he  can  fill  Greene's  place  at  guard," 
observed  a  third.  "  Greene  's  not  coming  back, 


Ab  Initio.  31 

you  know.     Going  to  get  married  or  something 
— just  our  luck,  is  n't  it?" 

In  the  meantime  the  object  of  their  conver- 
sation had  entered  the  little  building  where  the 
Registrar  held  court.  Here  he  found  that  a 
cheap  room  in  Edwards  Hall  had  already  been 
engaged  for  Newton  Wilberforce  Hart,  and  that 
Franklin  was  evidently  looking  out  for  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

QUOD   ERAT   DEMONSTRANDUM. 

IT  was  toward  the  latter  half  of  the  first  en- 
trance examination — all  was  silence  and  gloom 
within  and  sunshine  and  shouting  without — 
baseballs  were  in  the  air  and  a  very  amateur 
battery  was  practising  beneath  the  window. 

Congreve  looked  about  the  room.  He  had 
just  printed  Q.  E.  D.  in  very  large  letters  at  the 
end  of  a  labyrinth  of  algebraic  signs  and 
formulae.  He  was  quite  sure  in  his  own  mind 
that  he  was  entirely  wrong,  but,  nevertheless, 
Q.  E.  D.  looked  well  in  place. 

In  the  next  seat  to  him,  writing  with  a  long 
gold  pencil  attached  to  his  heavy  watch  chain, 
was  a  short  young  man,  very  natty  in  dress, 
with  a  big  pearl  horse-shoe  in  his  spotted  neck- 
tie. He  had  nearly  finished  his  paper,  and  he 
occasionally  shuffled  with  his  feet.  At  last  he 
looked  at  his  huge  gold  watch,  and,  despite  the 
32 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         33 

fact  that  the  time  was  quite  evident  by  a  glance 
at  the  face,  he  pressed  a  spring  and  the  hour 
rang  out  in  the  repeater's  musical  tinkling 
notes.  So  still  was  the  room  that  the  sound 
was  quite  audible,  and  even  the  professor, 
seated  cross-legged  on  the  platform,  looked  up. 
The  young  man  closed  the  watch  with  a  snap, 
heaved  a  sigh,  and,  walking  down  the  aisle,  was 
the  first  to  give  in  his  papers.  Inscribed  in  a 
bold  hand  on  the  outside  sheet  was,  "  L.  Putney 
Betts,  New  York,  New  York." 

There  was  a  flutter  as  he  passed. 

Once  outside  the  door,  he  paused  and  drew 
a  cigarette  from  a  silver  case. 

"  Dead  easy,"  he  said  :  "  struck  four  out  of 
five.  Knew  'em  by  heart."  Then  he  chuckled, 
"  There  's  nothing  like  having  a  professor's 
brother  for  a  tutor,"  he  remarked  to  himself ; 
"  there  's  where  I  had  a  great  head." 

But  to  return  to  the  busy  room  again. 

The  big  freshman  was  seated  in  one  of  the 
back  seats.  His  brow  was  wrinkled  and  he  had 
run  his  fingers  so  often  through  his  hair  that  it 
stood  up  from  his  head  in  all  directions  like  an 
aurora.  At  last,  however,  he  wrote  his  name 
carefully  in  the  right-hand  corner  of  his  paper 

3 


34  A  Princetonian. 

and  walked  to  the  professor's  desk.  The  latter 
glanced  up  from  his  book,  and  turned  the  paper 
about  so  as  to  read  the  signature.  It  read 
Newton  Wilberforce  Hart,  Oakland,  Nebraska. 

Mr.  Congreve,  who  had  been  drawing  a  pic- 
ture of  a  yacht  on  the  arm  of  the  seat,  grew 
nervous ;  several  more  candidates  had  gone  out 
of  the  room.  He  glanced  at  the  questions 
again.  To  his  delight  Simeon  Tolker  remem- 
bered having  once  had  the  next  problem  given 
him  at  St.  Paul's.  He  wrote  Q.  E.  D.  a  little 
bit  larger  and,  if  anything,  more  distinctly  than 
before  ;  and  now  there  seemed  to  be  an  epi- 
demic of  finishing ;  figure  after  figure  left  their 
seats  and  the  pile  of  little  white  pamphlets  on 
the  professor's  desk  grew  taller  and  taller. 

Soon  only  a  dozen  or  so  were  left  and  there 
was  but  one  problem  for  Mr.  Congreve  to 
answer.  A  short  thick-set  youth  with  eye- 
glasses was  drumming  on  his  teeth  with  the  end 
of  his  lead  pencil.  As  he  caught  Congreve's 
eye,  he  winked  and  shook  his  head  hopelessly  ; 
at  last,  however,  he  dashed  his  name  on  the 
paper  with  a  flourish,  yawned  extravagantly,  and 
sauntered  slowly  down  the  aisle.  Congreve  was 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         35 

at  his  heels.  When  they  emerged  into  the  sun- 
light, the  latter  turned  and  spoke  : 

"  Stickler,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Mucilaginous,"  replied  the  young  man 
with  glasses  ;  "  I  hope  he  doesn't  send  mine  to 
Puck." 

"  It  's  a  funny  thing  how  you  can  forget  now, 
is  n't  it?  My  name  is  Congreve." 

"  And  mine  is  Golatly,"  replied  the  other. 

They  shook  hands.  In  another  moment 
there  was  quite  a  group  about  the  door-way, 
and  after  a  short  discussion  upon  the  exami- 
nation, the  freshmen  strolled  off  in  groups  of 
three  and  four. 

L.  Putney  Betts  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  a  room  in  University  Hall.  As  he 
had  already  been  in  Princeton  for  the  past  week 
tutoring,  it  was  quite  habitable.  There  were 
yachting  pictures  and  English  sporting  prints 
all  over  the  walls.  A  handsome  mahogany 
cigar  box  with  silver  handles  rested  upon  the 
table.  The  room  was  rilled  with  blue  smoke 
and  the  odor  of  very  excellent  tobacco.  The 
window  seat  was  packed  with  young  men  who 


36  A  Princetonian. 

appeared  to  be  very  much  at  home.  It  was 
ten  o'clock  at  night. 

Three  or  four  uncomfortable-looking  figures 
sat  about  in  chairs.  A  roar  of  laughter  broke 
out  and  even  the  uncomfortable  figures  joined 
in. 

The  occasion  of  the  merriment,  Terence  Go- 
latly,  emerged  from  the  bedroom.  He  was  in 
charge  of  a  pudding  faced  individual  who  wore 
an  orange-and-black  Tarn  O'Shanter. 

"  As  Master  of  Ceremonies,  gentlemen,  I  beg 
to  introduce  this  promising  little  boy  who  will 
talk  of  politics  in  his  native  city,  Newark,"  said 
the  fat  sophomore. 

Freshman  Golatly  was  attired  in  a  dressing 
gown  and  had  on  his  head  a  waste-paper  basket, 
shaped  like  an  Uncle  Sam's  beaver  hat.  If  this 
was  hazing,  there  was  nothing  cruel  in  it — he 
apparently  was  enjoying  his  position  as  much  as 
the  rest. 

L.  Putney  Betts  nervously  passed  the  hand- 
some cigar  box. 

There  is  no  use  recording  Mr.  Golatly 's  ora- 
torical outburst ;  but  in  the  midst  of  it  there 
was  an  interruption.  Three  or  four  freshmen 
entered  the  room,  and  among  them  the  broad- 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         3  7 

shouldered  man  from  Nebraska.  He  glanced 
awkwardly  around,  declined  a  cigar,  and  leaned 
back  in  the  corner. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  some  one  from  the  win- 
dow seat,  after  the  young  man  from  Newark 
had  rambled  on  at  some  length ;  "  let  's,  let  's 
try  what  somebody  else  can  do  for  us."  He 
approached  one  of  the  figures  seated  against 
the  wall. 

"  Dance,  sing,  or  tell  a  story.  What 's  your 
name? "  he  said. 

"  My  name  is  James,"  was  the  answer.  The 
speaker  was  a  slim,  sharp-featured  lad  with  deep- 
set  eyes  like  a  young  hawk's.  He  was  sun- 
burned and  had  a  keen  air  about  him.  His 
fingers  showed  the  marks  of  the  base-ball 
player.  "  Oh,  I  say,"  he  replied,  "  I  'm  no 
good  at  anything  of  that  kind,  or  I  would  do 
it  in  a  minute.  Ask  some  one  else. 

"  Try  the  large  infant  in  the  corner,"  came 
another  suggestion  from  one  of  the  visitors. 
Thus  publicly  dared,  the  sophomore  walked  up 
to  Hart. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  said,  "  let  's  see  what 
you  're  good  for.  Do  a  stunt,  you  son  of  Anak." 

Mr.  Hart  appeared  quite  embarassed.     It  all 


38  A  Princetonian. 

seemed  very  foolish  to  him,  though  he  tried  to 
smile  good-humoredly,  but  there  was  a  nervous 
twinkle  in  his  eyes  that  should  have  been  a 
warning. 

"  This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  Huckleberry 
John,  the  Hoosier  Giant.  You  will  find  him 
pleasing  and  affable  in  conversation.  He  also 
has  his  photographs  for  sale,"  began  the  sopho- 
more. Encouraged  by  the  success  of  this  at- 
tempt to  be  amusing,  the  orator  bowed.  "  Bow, 
John,"  he  said,  and  struck  the  tall  man  from 
Oakland  a  sharp  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head, 
and  just  here  something  happened  !  Where  it 
came  from  the  assumed  showman  never  knew, 
but  there  seemed  to  be  an  explosion  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  went  backwards  across  the  room, 
bringing  down  a  chair,  and  upsetting  two  of  his 
classmates  who  had  seated  themselves  on  the 
edge  of  the  sofa.  There  was  a  dead  silence, 
and  Hart  was  the  first  to  break  it.  He  had 
partially  taken  off  his  coat,  but  he  slipped  it 
on  again  hurriedly.  His  face  was  very  white, 
and  he  spoke  with  an  effort. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  hit  you  so  hard,"  he  said, 
"but  you  made  me  mad  cuffing  a  fellow  like 
that, — no  fun  in  it." 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         39 

It  would  have  been  all  right  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  foolhardiness  of  the  discomfited 
sophomore.  As  soon  as  he  regained  his 
feet,  he  picked  up  a  small  book  from  the 
table,  and  hurled  it  with  all  his  might.  It 
caught  Hart  squarely  in  the  forehead.  Every- 
one gasped,  but  the  tall  figure  walked  over  to 
where  the  now  frightened  crowd  were  gathered 
in  the  window  seat. 

"  Get  out  of  this  !  I  have  had  enough  of  all 
of  you,"  he  said."  "  Get  out !  " 

This  was  a  nice  way  for  a  freshman  to  ad- 
dress members  of  the  class  above  him.  No  one 
stirred,  and  there  was  an  uncomfortable  silence. 
"  Clear  out !  "  said  Hart  again,  a  little  louder. 

He  stretched  out  one  big  hand  and  caught 
the  sophomore  nearest  to  him  by  the  back  of 
his  coat.  This  lad  had  played  on  his  class 
football  team,  and  he  ducked  and  grabbed  the 
freshman  by  the  knees.  Then  commenced 
what  was  described  as  a  "  rukus  "  in  resound- 
ing Alexandrines  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Terence 
Golatly  and  spoken  by  him  on  many  occasions 
afterwards. 

At  once  there  was  a  rush  made  by  the  un- 
bidden guests.  They  swarmed  at  the  big  fresh- 


40  A  Princetonian. 

man  valiantly.  The  swaying  crowd  backed 
against  L.  Putney  Betts's  centre-table  and  over 
went  the  drop-light  and  fine  cigar  box. 

It  was  dark  as  a  pocket.  Some  one  ran 
down  the  hall-way  and  thumped  upon  the 
door,  for  the  noise  had  startled  the  dwellers 
in  the  rooms  along  the  corridor. 

"  Here  's  Mat !  Here  's  Mat !  "  they  shouted, 
and  joined  in  the  pounding. 

In  the  darkness  and  confusion  a  deep  purring 
voice  was  heard. 

"  What 's  going  on  here  ?  Let  me  in  !  Stop 
it  there ! " 

The  door  opened  and  a  burly  figure  forced 
its  way  through  the  crowd. 

Well  known,  well  liked,  and  feared,  Matt 
Goldie,  the  proctor,  had  hardly  ever  failed  to 
stop  or  quell  any  disturbance  by  the  mere  in- 
tervention of  his  presence.  But  this  occasion 
was  an  exception. 

To  and  fro  in  the  darkness  surged  the  strug- 
gling mass.  Matt  extended  his  great  arms. 

"  Stop  this  right  here,"  he  cried,  "  or  you 
will  be  all  up  before  the  faculty  !  Do  you  hear 
what  I  say  !  " 

He  had  grasped  two  of  the  combatants  and 
tossed  them  to  either  side,  when,  suddenly,  he 


Qtcod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         4 1 

himself  was  caught  by  a  strong  pair  of  arms 
and  down  he  went. 

Some  one  struck  a  match.  It  went  out  at 
once.  But  in  the  brief  spurt  of  light  those 
around  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  battle  royal 
on  the  floor. 

The  sophomores  had  withdrawn  from  the 
fight  and  had  retreated  into  the  hall,  but  Hart, 
blind  with  rage,  was  grappling  with  one  who 
had  been  reckoned  only  a  few  years  before  as 
the  strongest  man  in  Princeton. 

A  second  match  was  struck  and  the  drop 
light  held  in  L.  Putney  Betts's  trembling  hands 
was  lit.  Straining  like  two  fighting  bulls  were 
the  proctor  and  the  ex-deputy-sheriff,  trying  to 
roll  from  under  the  table. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Hart,  unclasping  his 
fingers  to  get  a  stronger  grip  upon  his  oppon- 
ent's collar. 

"  I  ,am  the  proctor  of  the  college,"  panted 
Matt,  whose  years  told  upon  him. 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  are  the  President,"  said 
Hart,  "  let  go  of  me  or  I  '11  choke  your  throat." 

At  last  they  parted  cautiously,  and  getting 
to  their  feet  stood  looking  at  one  another.  The 
crowd  in  the  hall  whispered  excitedly. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  panted  Matt. 


42  A  Princetonian. 

Hart  gave  it  in  full,  but  his  spirit  sank  within 
him.  No  one  smiled.  Was  this  to  be  the  end 
of  his  college  career?  He  thought  of  the  miles 
he  had  travelled, — of  what  he  had  given  up. 
Despair  and  anger  filled  his  soul. 

"  Is  this  your  room  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  have  a  small  room  in  Edwards." 

The  proctor  still  breathing  hard  cleared  the 
crowd  out  of  the  hallway.  The  hilarity  that 
had  been  going  on  had  ceased  entirely,  and  the 
freshmen  were  seated  silently  about.  Newton 
Wilberforce  Hart  was  much  depressed.  He 
had  straightened  his  crumpled  collar  and 
brushed  his  torn  clothes,  and  was  now  twisting 
his  big  fingers  nervously.  Never  had  he  felt 
so  young  or  so  foolish  in  his  life. 

An  upper-class  man  knocked  on  the  door. 
He  had  been  one  of  the  group  who  had  gath- 
ered outside.  Every  one  knew  him  ;  his  pictures 
had  appeared  in  the  illustrated  papers  for  the 
last  three  years — Minton,  the  Half-Back. 

"  You  had  better  go  over  to  your  room,  old 
chap,"  he  said,  addressing  Hart ;  "  I  will  see  if 
I  can't  straighten  matters  out.  I  would  n't 
hang  around  here  any  more,  if  I  were  you." 

The  big  freshman  waited  a  few  minutes  and 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         43 

then,  accompanied  by  three  or  four  of  his  class, 
he  walked  across  the  campus.  Another  figure 
joined  them  at  the  corner  of  the  observatory — 
"Hullo!  don't  you  remember  me;  I 'm  Bliss 
— met  you  at  the  Glee  Club  car,"  said  a  cheerful 
voice. 

When  Hart  reached  his  little  room  in  Edwards, 
there  was  some  lettering  in  green  painted  upon 
the  door.  He  did  not  appear  to  notice  what 
was  written  there,  as  the  hall  was  but  dimly 
lighted. 

Bidding  his  friends  good-night,  he  closed  the 
door  behind  him  and  slipped  the  bolt. 

Simeon  Tolker  Congreve  turned  to  the  others 
who  had  accompanied  him.  He  struck  a  match, 
lighted  a  cigarette,  and  then  he  saw  that  the 
lettering  had  been  done  within  the  last  few 
minutes,  for  the  paint  was  running. 

The  legend  ran,  "  CAVE  CANEM  !  Do  not 
touch.  This  animal  is  dangerous." 

Congreve  daubed  his  finger  with  the  pigment 
and  inscribed  beneath,  "  Q.  E.  D."  "Quod 
erat  demonstrandum,  which  is  a  true  fact,"  he 
added. 

"  By  the  horn  spoon,  I  wish  he  was  rooming 
with  me,"  said  L.  Putney  Betts. 


44  A  Princetonian. 

When  the  others  had  gone  Hart  seated  him- 
self on  the  edge  of  the  narrow  little  bedstead. 
He  leaned  his  head  forward  in  his  hands.  Such 
a  feeling  of  hopelessness  came  over  him,  such  a 
great  wave  of  self-pity  and  remorse  (that  he  had 
ever  been  foolish  enough  to  imagine  that  a  man 
of  his  age  could  adapt  himself  to  a  college  ex- 
istence) overwhelmed  him  to  the  extent  that 
he  could  hardly  control  the  bitter  curses  that 
came  to  his  lips. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  knock  on  the  door. 
Hart  arose.  There  was  a  devilish  expression 
in  his  face.  It  would  have  gone  hard  for  any 
sophomore  who  would  have  dared  to  put  his 
head  inside  that  room. 

"  By  the  Lord,  I  '11  kill  'em,"  said  the  West- 
erner, through  his  clenched  teeth.  "  Who  's 
there  ?  "  he  called  aloud. 

"  It 's  I,  Franklin,"  was  the  answer.  "  Don't 
you  remember?  Omaha,  you  know." 

Hart  dropped  the  little  poker  which  he  had 
taken  from  the  fireplace  and  opened  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  to  be 
polite. 

Franklin  noticed,  however,  that  Hart's  hand 
was  shaking  nervously  as  he  turned  up  the  sin- 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         45 

gle  gas-jet.  He  seated  himself  in  the  only 
chair,  and  Hart  leaned  back  against  the  bare 
mantelpiece. 

"  Well,"  said  Franklin  at  last,  seeing  that  he 
was  expected  to  speak  first,  "  how  did  you  pass 
to-day's  examinations,  and  what  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never  come,"  said  the 
ex-deputy-sheriff ;  "  this  is  no  place  for  a  man 
like  me.  Why,"  he  added,  half  smiling  and 
yet  angry  at  the  recollection,  "  they  treated 
me  like  a  pesky  tender-fcot.  I  got  riled  up 
and  got  into  a  rukus  with  the  proctor  of  the 
college,  I  believe.  I  expect  I  shall  be  expelled 
in  the  morning.  Expelled ! "  He  laughed 
bitterly.  "  There  's  a  fine  rocket  for  you.  But 
I  'm  very  much  obliged  for  all  you  've  done 
for  me,  I  'm  sure." 

Franklin  stood  up.  He  stepped  over  and 
put  one  hand  on  Hart's  shoulder,  but  there 
was  no  patronizing  in  the  action. 

"  Look  here,  old  man,"  he  said,  "  now  don't 
get  disgusted.  I  went  through  this  same  thing 
when  I  came  here,  and  you  may  have  it  for  a 
week,  but  don't  give  up.  The  most  of  these 
fellows  are  not  so  old  as  you  and  I,  and  look 


46  A  Princetonian. 

at  things  very  differently.  You  've  got  to  put 
up  with  some  of  it — there 's  a  lot  else  that  will 
make  amends.  After  what  happened  to-night 
you  '11  never  be  bothered  again.  But  you  must 
not  be  above  things  at  the  first,  whether  you 
like  them  or  not.  You  will  have  to  enter  in 
somehow  and  have  them  over  with." 

"I  don't  exactly  understand  you,"  said 
Hart. 

"  Well,  just  for  instance,"  said  Franklin, 
"  there  are  things  that  freshmen  are  expected 
to  do.  Why,  Heaven  knows,  but  they  Ve 
always  been  done.  They  steal  the  clapper  out 
of  the  bell.  They  paste  what  they  term  '  proc- 
lamations '  all  over  the  scenery,  and  very  often 
they  behave  like  hyenas.  Now,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  you  to  lead  in  any  of  this,  you  see,  but 
you  're  a  freshman,  you  know,  and  your  class 
would  not  like  to  be  sneered  at  by  one  of  its 
own  members.  After  a  few  weeks,  or  a  month 
or  so,  you  '11  have  begun  to  make  your  friends. 
Then  you  can  pick  out  a  line  of  action  for 
yourself.  But  if  there  's  any  way  that  you  can 
help  without  doing  any  harm,  pitch  in  !  It 
may  be  amusing  or  not ;  but  then  it 's  a  sort  of 
a  duty.  Now  the  cane  spree " 


Quod  Er at  Demonstrandum.         47 

"  What  's  a  cane  spree?  "  inquired  Hart. 

"  Well,"  said  Franklin,  "  the  sophs  pick  out 
three  men  from  their  class,  and  you  pick  out 
three  men  from  yours.  They  catch  hold  of  a 
stick  and  see  who  can  get  it.  Of  course,  you  '11 
be  chosen." 

"  Give  me  a  chance,"  said  Hart,  grimly. 

Franklin  laughed.  "You'll  get  it.  You'll 
get  your  stick,  too,  old  man,"  he  said. 

At  this  moment  there  came  another  knock 
on  the  door. 

"  That 's  Minton,"  said  the  senior,  as  the 
half-back  came  into  the  room. 

"  Hullo,  Buck,"  he  said  ;  "  I  've  fixed  things 
all  right  with  Matt.  There  '11  be  no  report 
made  of  that  affair.  Matt  thinks  you  're  a 
'  dindy,'  "  he  said,  turning  to  Hart. 

"  Hope  I  did  n't  hurt  him,"  said  the  latter. 

"  That 's  just  what  he  said  about  you,"  re- 
plied the  half-back,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  'm  all  right." 

A  voice  was  heard  at  this  juncture  in  the 
hallway.  "  Throw  him  down,  McCloskey," 
sung  in  quick-march  time,  echoed  along  the 
walls. 

"  Here  comes  Noisy  Tom,"  said   Franklin  ; 


48  A  Princetonian. 

and  Tommy  Wilson  appeared  on  the  door- 
sill. 

"Hullo,  you  Ve  not  forgotten  me?"  he 
exclaimed,  coming  into  the  room,  with  the 
chorus  of  the  song  still  on  his  lips.  "  Don't 
you  remember  in  the  Glee  Club  car  in  Omaha 
you  told  me  that  I  imitated  a  jackass  more  suc- 
cessfully than  any  man  you  ever  met." 

They  all  laughed  and  Tommy  began  to  talk 
torrents  of  words.  Hart  found  himself  feeling 
much  more  at  ease,  and  when  they  had  all 
shaken  hands  with  him,  he  bade  them  good- 
night and  went  to  bed,  relieved  of  much  of  the 
bitterness  that  he  had  felt  an  hour  or  so  previ- 
ously. But  he  dreamed  that  Matt,  the  proctor, 
was  gunning  for  him  with  a  revolver,  and  that 
Mabel  had  come  on  all  the  way  from  Oakland 
to  tell  him  to  "  look  out  for  himself." 

He  was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the 
ringing  of  the  chapel  bell,  and  as  he  walked 
along  the  pathway  he  was  conscious  that  he  was 
being  pointed  out.  He  had  that  uncomfortable 
feeling  that  people  of  retiring  dispositions  have 
when  they  are  being  talked  about. 

After  the  services  were  over  he  was  joined  by 
several  young  fellows  whom  he  recognized  as 


Quod  Erat  Demonstrandum.         49 

his  own  classmates,  and  who  apparently  es- 
teemed it  quite  an  honor  to  walk  over  with 
him  toward  the  hall  in  which  he  was  to  attend 
his  first  recitation. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WORK,   STUFF,  AND  NONSENSE. 

A  WEEK  went  by ;  a  week  that  meant  a  great 
deal  to  many  members  of  the  freshman  class, 
but  to  none  more  than  it  did  to  Newton  Hart. 
Much  to  his  surprise  he  found  that  he  had 
passed  all  of  his  examinations  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one,  in  which  he  had  received  a  partial 
condition.  He  was  congratulated  by  Franklin 
and  by  all  of  the  young  men  whom  he  had  met 
upon  the  Glee  Club  trip,  finding  to  his  delight 
that  they  remembered  him  and  apparently  were 
glad  to  see  him. 

He  thought  of  telegraphing  the  news  of  his 
having  passed  the  examinations  to  Oakland, 
but  he  remembered  that  possibly  Mabel  would 
not  understand, — and  then  rates  were  high.  So 
he  wrote  a  long  letter,  which,  if  it  had  been 
read  between  the  lines,  would  have  decided 
one  that  Mr.  Hart  had  not  altogether  settled 
5° 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          5 1 

the  question  whether  he  had  done  wisely  or 
foolishly  in  coming  to  college.  Another  thing 
would  have  been  apparent — that  he  was  really 
rather  homesick. 

The  expenses  that  he  found  he  had  to  incur 
were  much  less  than  he  had  had  any  idea  of, 
but  friends  had  been  working  for  him,  and  he 
found  that  Franklin  and  Tommy  Wilson  had 
secured  for  him  an  eating  club  (where  he  did 
not  have  to  wait  on  the  table,  but  only  kept  the 
accounts),  and  for  this  small  trouble  his  board- 
ing dues  were  remitted. 

The  rent  of  the  small  room  at  Edwards 
amounted  to  very  little ;  and  the  furniture 
had  been  purchased  fifth  or  sixth  hand  at  one 
of  the  college  shops. 

Hart  was  the  first  in  the  recitation  rooms  and 
the  last  to  leave.  He  took  notes  of  the  profess- 
ors' lectures  with  a  seriousness  that  was  flatter- 
ing and  which  in  a  freshman  is  bound  to  attract 
attention.  In  fact,  merely  on  account  of  his  age 
and  personal  appearance  he  had  been  discussed 
by  the  members  of  the  faculty,  and  it  might  be 
said  that  they  as  a  body  had  their  eyes  upon  him. 

Another  thing  had  happened  which  was  of 
great  importance.  He  was  now  president  of  his 


52  A  Princetonian. 

class.  This  was  the  result  of  rather  unusual  cir- 
cumstances. At  the  first  class  meeting,  the 
freshmen,  not  knowing  one  another,  were  gen- 
erally disturbed  by  the  sophomores,  who  crept 
in  to  upset  the  proceedings,  if  possible.  Hart's 
figure  and  his  age  marked  him  at  once,  as  we 
have  said,  among  his  classmates.  He  had  en- 
tered the  room  in  which  the  meeting  was  being 
held  and  found  perfect  pandemonium.  Young 
men  were  jumping  up  all  over  the  room,  some 
standing  on  chairs.  The  meeting  was  presided 
over  by  a  junior,  who  lacked  the  qualifications 
necessary  to  enforce  either  silence  or  respect. 
He  was  rapping  upon  the  desk  with  a  black- 
board eraser,  which  only  sufficed  to  enclose  him 
in  a  chalky  cloud. 

Hart  stood  in  the  background  for  a  minute 
until  something  that  was  being  said  got  his  ear. 
He  was  well  up  in  parliamentary  law. 

"That 's  not  the  way  to  go  about  it,"  he  re- 
marked to  a  slim,  pale-featured  youth  alongside 
of  him.  "  Why  don't  they  stop  all  this  talk  and 
propose  nominations  and  organize.  Let  some 
one  have  the  floor." 

"  Get  up  and  tell  them,"  said  the  slim  youth, 
"you  can  do  it." 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          53 

Hart  stood  on  a  chair.  "  Gentlemen  !  "  he 
began. 

The  effect  was  quite  wonderful.  He  hushed 
the  gathering  as  if  they  had  been  children 
(which  some  of  them  really  were),  and  to  his 
surprise  Hart  found  himself  talking  in  a  low 
voice,  but  with  intense  determination  in  every 
gesture  of  his  heavy  hand.  Order  began  to 
reign,  and  when  three  or  four  intruding  sopho- 
mores, who  had  been  the  cause  of  the  uproar, 
had  been  unceremoniously  bundled  out  of  the 
room,  the  chairman  announced  that  nominations 
were  in  order  for  President.  Three  or  four 
jumped  to  their  feet  at  once. 

"  I  nominate  that  man,"  said  a  little  shrill- 
voiced  boy  who  managed  to  get  the  word  in 
first.  He  pointed  his  finger  at  Hart.  "  I  don't 
know  the  gentleman's  name,"  he  said,  "  but  it 
seems  to  me  he  '11  do." 

There  was  a  stamping  of  feet  and  an  in- 
coherent cheer. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Newton  Wilber- 
force  Hart,  of  Oakland,  Nebraska,  had  to  carry 
upon  his  shoulders  what  he  considered  a  tre- 
mendous responsibility,  for  he  took  it  as  a  most 
serious  matter. 


54  A  Princetonian. 

An  hour  after  the  meeting,  as  he  was  puzzling 
over  a  Greek  verb  in  his  room,  he  stopped  and 
thought.  It  was  not  a  conceited  thought  that 
had  flashed  across  his  mind  ;  but  it  was  this  : 
He  might  be  here  for  something  after  all !  He 
could  see  that  his  experience  was  bound  to  help 
him.  He  had  felt  somehow  that  these  lads,  so 
much  younger  than  himself,  were  looking  to 
him  to  help  them  through,  for  he  had  come  to  re- 
gard the  freshman  year  as  a  very  difficult  term 
of  service.  He  longed  in  truth  for  the  com- 
forts that  upper-class  men  seemed  to  possess 
in  being  able  to  mind  their  own  business,  if 
nothing  else.  Yet,  although  a  great  deal  of  the 
hubbub  appeared  froth  and  foolishness  to  him, 
he  had  ceased  to  hold  it  all  in  such  contempt. 

Since  his  first  night  in  college  no  one  had 
attempted  to  haze  or  interfere  with  him.  A 
few  whistlings  and  remarks  upon  the  campus 
he  had  ignored  entirely.  But  he  was  to  indulge 
in  one  little  escapade  (which  was  long  after- 
wards remembered,  by  the  way),  and  as  this 
makes  a  story  in  itself,  it  may  be  brought  in 
without  really  being  a  digression,  before  we  go 
deeply  into  any  one's  personal  history. 

Congreve,  Golatly,  and  L.  Putney  Betts,  who 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.  55 

had  attached  themselves  to  Hart,  and  who 
apparently  were  glad  to  be  seen  with  him,  lived 
in  University  Hall.  If  there  was  any  trouble 
or  mischief  afoot  in  the  freshman  class,  Matt, 
the  proctor,  had  learned  by  short  experience 
to  put  their  names  down  first  on  his  list  of 
suspects.  Their  motto  was  happily  expressed 
by  Mr.  Golatly  when  he  said :  "  What  is  the 
use  of  living,  if  you  are  not  in  it  ?  " 

But  all  this  brings  us  to  a  night  when  the 
class  of  189-  was  only  three  weeks  old.  There 
was  dead  silence  down  the  corridors  at  Univer- 
sity Hall,  when  suddenly  it  was  broken  by  the 
sound  of  a  low  thick  voice  : 

"  Ged  oop  !  Ged  oop  !  in  dere." 

Then  followed  some  incoherent  words,  and 
there  was  a  rapping  on  freshman  Congreve's 
door.  It  was  Steve,  the  old  German  night- 
watchman,  ally  of  all  the  freshmen  in  University 
Hall. 

Hearing  the  racket,  Congreve  started  up  in 
bed.  "  Heavens  !  What  's  happened  ?  "  he 
said  to  himself,  throwing  off  the  blankets. 

"  Ged  oop  quivickly,"  came  in  mumbling 
accents  from  the  hallway.  "  Vat  is  de  matter 


56  A  Princetonian. 

in  dere !  Vy  dond  you  ged  oop,  Mr.  Con- 
greve  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  a  fire,"  Congreve  said  to  himself, 
his  heart  beginning  to  thump  loudly. 

It  was  pitch  dark  and  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning — the  clock  struck  the  hour  just  as  he 
opened  the  door. 

"  De  sophomores  are  gedding  out  the  progla- 
mations,"  said  Steve  in  a  whisper  that  could  be 
heard  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 

At  first  the  meaning  did  not  penetrate  Con- 
greve's  sleep-muddled  brain.  Finally,  however, 
he  remembered  what  it  meant.  He,  Betts, 
Terence,  Golatly,  and  Jimmie  James,  freshmen 
of  course,  and  as  yet  in  good  standing  before 
the  faculty,  had  gone  down  to  Trenton  three 
or  four  times  in  the  last  week  to  see  about  the 
printing  of  their  own  class  utterances  of  de- 
fiance ;  wherein  the  members  of  the  class  above 
them  were  decried  and  slurred  upon  in  a  jumble 
of  incoherent  and  turgid  English.  The  sopho- 
mores generally  began  this  little  game  and  the 
printers  profited. 

As  these  notices  were  addressed  to  the  world 
in  general,  and  often  pasted  upon  long-distance 
freight  cars,  they  probably  had  puzzled  many 


Work,  Stuff >  and  Nonsense.          5  7 

who  had  never  heard  of  the  College  of  New 
Jersey. 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Betts  ?  "  inquired  Con- 
greve,  putting  his  suspenders  over  his  night- 
robe. 

"  He  is  oop,  yes,  ten  minutes,"  said  Steve  ; 
"  told  me  to  come  and  vake  you — if  I  could." 

Congreve  hurried  into  a  coat,  and  going  down 
the  hallway  found  Betts  dressing  in  the  dark. 

"  Now  get  the  others  out,"  the  latter  said 
without  a  word  of  greeting,  "  you  know  the 
juniors  told  us  to  do  it  quietly.  "  Let  's  go 
over  and  get  old  '  Cave  Canum '  and  make  him 
fuss  for  us." 

"  Have  you  got  the  procs  ?  "  inquired  Con- 
greve. 

"  Here  's  a  bale  of  'em,"  said  Betts,  hauling 
out  a  long  bundle  from  under  the  bed.  "  I 
have  made  fresh  stickum  every  night  for  the 
last  three  days,  and  I  have  got  it  in  the  bath- 
room, by  the  great  horn  spoon  !  " 

He  disappeared,  and  Congreve  heard  him 
stumbling  about.  Suddenly  there  was  a  howl, 
a  plash,  and  the  sound  of  muttering. 

Betts's  bathroom  consisted  of  a  closet,  on  the 
floor  of  which  was  a  big  hat  tub.  In  the  dark- 


58  A  Princetonian. 

ness  he  had  stepped  upon  the  edge,  and  the 
tub  had  sprung  up  at  him. 

Congreve  began  to  laugh.  "  You  're  a  prize 
jay,"  he  remarked  into  the  depths  of  the  closet. 

"  Feel  me,  I  'm  soaking  wet,"  was  all  Betts 
said  when  he  emerged. 

Congreve  went  off  into  another  fit  of  laughter. 
"  Had  n't  you  better  mop  it  up  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  let  it  go,"  replied  Betts ;  "  we  have  n't 
time.  Here,  take  the  magoo." 

After  producing  a  complete  bill-poster's  out- 
fit from  the  lower  bureau  drawer,  the  two  con- 
spirators stole  down  the  stairway. 

It  was  a  mild  September  night.  There  was  a 
deal  of  dampness  in  the  air,  and  so  dark  was  it 
that  they  could  hardly  see  the  path  before 
them  as  they  walked  across  the  campus. 

"  When  we  get  over  to  '  Gentle  '  Hart's,  we 
will  divide  our  forces,"  said  freshman  Betts. 
"Always  divide  your  forces,  you  know,  for 
strategy's  sake." 

They  entered  the  hallway  at  Edwards  and 
stole  carefully  down  to  the  room  that  had  the 
legend  in  green  paint, "  Cave  canum  !  "  upon  the 
panels.  Congreve  knocked  softly  with  the 
back  of  his  finger  nails  and  they  were  admitted. 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.  59 

Three  or  four  of  their  classmates  had  gathered 
there.  The  gas  was  burning  low,  and  a  blanket 
had  been  tacked  up  at  the  narrow  little  window. 
Charles  Townes,  a  pursy  youth  from  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.,  was  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
He  was  yawning.  "Gentle"  Hart  was  drawing 
on  a  pair  of  cowhide  boots.  Jimmie  James, 
"  the  Hawk-Faced  Man,"  as  he  was  called,  was 
pulling  away  at  a  corncob  pipe.  As  the  others 
entered  the  room  questions  were  fired  and 
answered  in  hoarse  whispers. 

The  sophomores  had  been  seen  a  half  hour 
ago,  and  one  of  their  proclamations  was  pasted 
on  the  side  of  the  railway  station.  Charlie 
Townes  had  read  it  himself  with  the  aid  of  a 
match. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tear  it  down  ?  "  asked 
Terence  Golatly,  who  had  just  come  in. 

"  It  had  such  a  good  thing  on  you,  McFad- 
den,  my  boy." 

"  I  would  not  take  your  judgment,"  said 
Golatly,  "  you  have  no  wit." 

"  It  's  time  we  were  starting,  don't  you 
guess  ?  "  said  Hart,  who  treated  the  whole  ex- 
pedition very  seriously.  He  had,  the  day  after 
his  talk  with  Franklin,  received  politely  a  long 


60  A  Princetonian. 

lecture  from  a  condescending  junior  upon 
proclamation  posting  and  clapper  stealing,  and 
seeing  that  it  was  placed  before  him  in  the  light 
of  a  duty,  he  had  determined  to  enter  into  the 
venture  because  it  was  expected  of  him  ;  but 
his  expressed  opinion  was  that  it  was  *'  stuff 
and  nonsense." 

L.  Putney  Betts  was  chosen  to  lay  out  the 
plan  of  campaign,  and  at  once  sent  one  of  the 
group  around  to  rouse  up  a  dozen  or  so  of  the 
larger  freshmen  and  tear  down  the  proclama- 
tions of  the  enemy,  while  he  and  his  party  de- 
voted themselves  to  placing  the  counter-irritant 
in  conspicuous  places. 

On  the  top  of  the  hill  to  the  southward  of 
the  Theological  Seminary  was  the  iron  water- 
tower  of  Princeton.  It  stretched  upwards  like 
a  huge  stove-pipe  on  a  tripod  of  iron  beams 
and  was  not  an  ornament  in  reckoning  up  the 
beauties  of  the  landscape.  But  it  had  its  uses. 

Some  time  before,  an  adventurous  freshman 
had  been  lowered  by  his  companions  at  the 
end  of  a  rope,  and  had  painted  his  class  nu- 
merals in  huge  orange  and  black  letters  on  the 
side  of  the  iron  tank  some  eighty  or  ninety 
feet  above  the  ground.  Since  then  it  had  be- 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          61 

come  the  custom  for  the  succeeding  classes  to 
paste  their  proclamations  on  each  side  of  the 
huge  letters,  and  every  fall  some  zealot  risked 
his  life  to  perform  this  sacred  duty. 

Down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  the  water- 
tower  tramped  the  party  in  Indian  file.  On 
the  fence  at  the  roadside  near  the  little  church 
they  saw  something  white  and  halted. 

After  several  attempts  to  strike  a  light,  Betts 
at  last  succeeded  with  the  last  match  in  the 
party,  and  then  read  the  notice  aloud.  The 
nonsensical  combinations  of  words  and  the 
comical  vituperation  appeared  to  anger  him. 

"  Tear  it  down  !  Tear  the  devilish  thing 
down  !  "  he  said,  and  as  it  had  been  but  freshly 
pasted  up  it  came  off  readily. 

"  Save  it,"  said  some  one,  "  as  an  example  of 
dense  ignorance."  The  proclamation  began  in 
the  same  way  as  did  their  own  : 

"  To  whom  it  may  concern  :  Whereas " 

Then  on  went  the  little  party  down  the  road 
once  more. 

"  And  born  without  mark,  we  all  see  in  the  dark, 
Like  owls  in  a  gooseberry  tree," 

hummed  Mr.  Golatly,  as  they  climbed  a  fence 
and  went  across  the  meadow. 


62  A  Princetonian. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  ex-deputy,  suddenly  ; 
"  Don't  you  hear  voices  ?  "  They  listened. 
Sure  enough.  Some  one  was  talking,  and  the 
sound  came  from  up  in  the  air,  above  their 
heads.  Before  them  loomed  the  great  shape  of 
the  iron  tower. 

"  They  are  at  work  now,"  said  Congreve,  in 
an  excited  whisper.  Just  then  a  light  was 
struck  by  some  one  standing  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ladder,  which  climbed  a  leg  of  the  tripod 
and  then  stretched  along  the  perpendicular 
sides  of  the  great  cylinder  itself.  The  match 
was  used  to  light  a  pipe,  and  the  watchers  by 
the  fence  saw  that  there  was  only  one  figure  at 
the  bottom. 

"  If  we  could  only  get  hold  of  him,"  said 
Betts,  "  without  the  others  knowing  it,  eh  !  " 

"  Let  's  try  it,"  said  Hart,  in  a  whisper. 

All  at  once  the  conversation  between  the  top 
of  the  tower  and  the  figure  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ladder  became  more  audible. 

"  Send  up  that  paste,  Reddy,"  called  a  voice 
from  the  sky. 

"  Y-y-you  Ve  got  it  y-y-yourself,"  stuttered 
the  voice  from  below. 

"  No,  we  have  n't,"  from  the  top  of  the  tower. 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          63 

"  W-w-well,  I-I  have  n't  s-s-seen  it,"  came 
from  below  again. 

There  was  some  consultation,  and  a  few  angry 
words  from  the  top.  Then  another  hail. 

"  Chump  says  he  left  it  at  the  fence.  I  've 
got  half  a  mind  to  throw  him  ofT."  There  were 
some  more  words. 

"  Th-th-throw  him  off,"  said  the  figure  at  the 
bottom.  There  was  no  answer  to  this,  and  a 
long  silence  followed. 

"  That  's  the  little  red-headed  Smart  Aleck 
that  was  at  the  '  Prep  '  with  me  two  years 
ago,"  whispered  Golatly.  "  Hush  !  they  're 
speaking  again." 

"  Go  find  that  paste,  Reddy,  you  jackass  !  " 
came  the  order  in  the  voice  that  had  done  all 
the  talking  from  the  sky. 

The  short  figure  with  the  pipe  stammered 
something  in  reply,  and  grumblingly  stumbled 
down  the  path  to  where  the  party  of  freshmen 
were  lying  beneath  the  fence.  As  he  threw  his 
leg  over  the  top  rail  he  was  grasped  in  a  pair  of 
mighty  arms. 

It  was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  red- 
headed one's  impediment  of  speech  that  when 
excited  he  became  absolutely  tongue-tied,  and 


64  A  Princetonian. 

he  carefully  avoided  allowing  his  feelings  to 
get  the  better  of  him.  For  this  same  reason 
now  he  was  so  surprised  that  he  could  not 
utter  a  word,  and  the  freshman  from  Nebraska, 
taking  him  at  such  a  disadvantage,  hurried 
down  the  road.  He  carried  the  little  sopho- 
more as  if  he  were  a  bag  of  meal. 

Then  led  by  freshman  Betts,  the  rest  of  the 
party  stepped  quickly  forward  to  the  base  of 
the  water-tower.  A  white  bundle  was  lying 
there  on  the  ground. 

"  Jove  !  It  's  their  own  proclamations," 
whispered  Golatly  in  Congreve's  ear. 

"  Are  you  down  there,  Reddy  ?  Where  's 
that  paste  ?  " 

"  A-a-all  right !  "  answered  Golatly,  with  a 
good  imitation  of  the  stutterer,  "  S-s-send  down 
a  r-r-rope." 

"  It 's  hanging  alongside  the  ladder,  you  bally 
idiot !  "  said  the  voice. 

There,  sure  enough,  was  a  stout  cord  reach- 
ing almost  to  the  ground,  and  within  easy 
reach. 

"  P-p-paste  on  s-s-six,"  stammered  Mr.  Go- 
latly, tying  a  bundle  of  his  own  class  proclama- 
tions at  the  end  of  the  string.  Then  he  attached 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          65 

the  freshman  paste-pot,  and  the  party  on  top 
hauled  them  up.  In  the  darkness  the  papers 
looked  much  alike,  the  only  difference  being 
that  the  sophomore  effusion  was  printed  in 
dark-green  ink,  instead  of  black. 

"  All  O.K.,"  came  the  answer  from  the  top 
of  the  tower. 

"  Say,  you  fellows,  I-I-I  'm  going  back  to  the 
college,"  stuttered  Golatly,  nudging  Congreve, 
and  taking  up  the  bundle  of  papers  from  the 
ground.  There  were  some  observations  from 
above,  but  Mr.  Golatly  vouchsafed  no  reply, 
and  in  the  darkness  the  party  stole  back  to  the 
road. 

When  they  reached  it,  the  success  of  the  ex- 
ploit was  too  much  for  them,  and  Betts  fairly 
rolled  m  the  dirt. 

"  Mr  Fadden,"  he  said  to  Golatly,  "  come  to 
me  arms,  you  're  a  jewel !  " 

"  I  say,  you  chaps,"  said  Congreve,  "  let 's 
tear  up  their  '  procs,'  and  leave  a  trail  along  the 
road.  Oh !  vote  me  a  piano  !  " 

It  was  no  sooner  said  than  done,  and  one  of 
the  bundles  was  divided  and  the  fragments 
scattered  by  the  roadside. 

They  had  found  the  sophomores'  bucket  of 


66  A  Princetonian. 

paste  at  the  fence  corner,  and  had  also  found 
Hart  and  his  captive  seated  on  the  railing  of  a 
small  bridge  across  a  little  brook  a  full  mile 
down  the  road. 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  him  ?  "  questioned 
Hart,  removing  his  arm  from  the  sophomore's 
shoulder. 

"  Make  him  carry  the  paste.  That 's  what 
they  would  do  to  one  of  us,"  said  Congreve. 

"  Don't  you  trust  him  with  it,"  put  in  Golat- 
ly ;  "  just  have  him  walk  along  with  us  for  fun. 
He  's  real  good  company." 

The  red-headed  one  was  so  angry,  and  had 
been  so  frightened  at  his  captor's  seriousness, 
that  he  did  not  feply.  They  were  standing 
just  then  beside  a  high  board  fence  which 
guarded  the  property  of  one  of  the  professors. 

"  Let 's  begin  to  put  them  here,"  said  Con- 
greve. 

Under  the  branches  of  the  great  pines  which 
extended  above  the  wall,  it  was  darker  than 
ever.  They  could  hardly  see  the  printing. 
Golatly  smothered  one  with  the  "stickum," 
and  put  it  on  the  boards.  A  few  yards  farther 
down  he  did  the  same  thing  again.  The  cap- 
tive meanwhile  had  been  standing  close  to  the 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          67 

fence,  smoking  furiously,  the  ember  in  his  pipe 
glowing  like  a  fierce  red  eye.  A  dozen  or  so  of 
the  big  pasters  were  distributed  in  this  manner 
without  any  comment. 

"Where  shall  we  put  the  rest?"  said  Con- 
greve,  turning  to  the  group,  for  they  had  come 
to  the  end  of  the  fence. 

"  I-I-know  a  good  place,"  stammered  the  red- 
headed one,  suddenly.  "  If  you  will  1-1-let  go 
of  my  hand,  you  g-g-great  big  stuff,  I  '11  tell  you 
where  it  is." 

Hart  had  been  leading  him  along  much  as  a 
nurse  would  take  an  unruly  child  out  for  an 
airing. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  asked  Golatly,  surprised. 

"  T-t-other  side  of  town.  You  will  have  to 
hurry.  It  's  where  we  were  going  to  p-p-put 
ours." 

The  big  fellow  dropped  his  hand  at  this  trai- 
torous speech,  and  the  prisoner  pulled  each  of 
his  fingers  separately  to  be  sure  they  were  in 
place,  then,  with  a  "  Come  on,  you  Fresh  !  "  he 
turned  down  a  lane  that  led  them  back  along 
the  road. 

"  I-I-I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  I-I-won't 
run  away,"  he  said,  breaking  the  silence  (Hart 


68  A  Princetonian. 

had  transferred  his  grasp  to  the  collar  of  his 
coat) ;  "  I-I-like  you  fellows  anyhow,"  he 
added. 

Truth  was,  there  was  a  bare  chance  just  then 
of  Reddy's  joining  their  ranks  and  losing  his 
sophomoric  standing  through  a  process  of  fac- 
ulty conclusions.  But  this  was  not  in  his  mind 
at  the  present  speaking. 

"  It  's  a  great  place.  We  'd  have  never 
thought  of  looking  here  for  them,"  said  Con- 
greve,  as  their  pilot  stopped  before  a  building 
on  the  right  of  the  road.  "  By  Jove !  How 
dark  it  is !  Take  care  !  This  is  barbed  wire  !  " 

The  sophomore  now  appeared  quite  as  eager 
as  the  rest  at  the  success  of  the  venture.  He 
held  up  the  strand  of  sharp  points  and  pointed 
out  good  places  to  paste  the  proclamation.  So 
black  was  it  that  these  desecrators  of  the  town- 
ship seat  of  learning  had  to  feel  their  way,  but 
they  pasted  six  of  the  big  papers  in  conspicu- 
ous positions  and  went  back  into  the  road. 

"  Now  there  are  as-as  good  places  all  the  way 
along  t-t-toward  t-t-town.  Please  let  me  go 
now,  I  Ve  done  the  best  I  could,"  said  the  soph- 
omore. 

So  at  every  fence  and  every  gate  post  they 


Work,  Stuff,  and  Nonsense.          69 

left  a  memento  of  their  journeying.  It  was 
growing  a  bit  lighter  and  they  could  discern 
faint  streaks  in  the  eastern  sky,  when  suddenly 
Freshman  Simeon  Tolker  Congreve  started  as 
he  smoothed  out  the  last  poster. 

"Fellows!"  he  exclaimed,  "they  are  all 
printed  in  green ;  they  're  the  sophomores' ! 
Those  were  our  '  procs '  we  tore  up !  Great 
Peter!  Are  n't  we  Lulus  !" 

"  Where 's  that  red-headed,  stuttering  ras- 
cal ?  "  said  Golatly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hart,  from  the  top  of  a 
fence.  "  He  was  here  a  minute  ago." 

Then  he  laughed,  but  he  was  the  only  one 
who  viewed  matters  in  a  comical  light. 

"  We  are  a  pack  of  fools,"  said  Golatly,  seri- 
ously. "  I  'm  going  to  send  a  bill  for  my  ser- 
vices." 

Congreve  half  smiled.  "  Let 's  go  back  and 
tear  them  all  down,"  he  said. 

"  You  don't  catch  me,"said  Hart ;  "  I  'm  going 
back  to  bed." 

In  the  bright  morning  light  the  six  freshman 
manifestoes  upon  the  water-tower  were  the  only 
ones  to  be  seen,  but  the  roadsides  were  covered 
with  the  screeds  of  their  natural  and  hereditary 
enemies,  only  half  obliterated. 


70  A  Princetonian. 

The  red-headed  sophomore,  whose  name  was 
Mudge,  publicly  stated  that  he  had  compelled 
the  freshmen  to  follow  his  orders  by  the  mere 
effect  of  his  commanding  voice  and  gesture. 

"  M-m-mind  over  m-m-matter,"  he  said. 

Terence  Golatly  celebrated  the  affair  at  the 
water-tower  in  blank  verse,  and  a  member  of  the 
faculty  related  the  story  with  gusto  at  a  meet- 
ing of  that  august  body,  where,  strange  to  relate, 
they  often  crack  jokes  and  often  laugh  at  such 
nonsensical  foolishness  as  this. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  CONVERSION. 

THREE  days  after  the  posting  by  proxy,  Hart 
worked  off  his  condition  in  Greek. 

This  really  meant  more  than  it  seemed  ;  it 
left  him  free  to  think,  and  Franklin,  who  had 
been  coaching  him  in  grammar  at  odd  moments, 
now  insisted  on  his  coming  out  and  trying  for 
the  scrub  eleven. 

"  I  came  here  to  work.  I  did  n't  come  here 
to  play  games,"  Hart  stated  bluntly. 

"  Oh,  yes  you  did,"  Franklin  replied  ;  "  that  *s 
part  of  your  course.  Your  brains  belong  to  you, 
— but  the  college  has  an  interest  in  that  thump- 
ing old  back  of  yours." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  it  that  way,"  grumbled 
Hart.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  'd  get  fighting  mad  if 
they  mauled  me  the  way  they  did  you  yester- 
day. Just  look  at  the  side  of  your  jaw." 

"  Let  not  your  angry  passions  rise,"  hummed 
71 


72  A  Princetonian. 

Franklin,  rubbing  his  face.  "  Look  here,  old 
man,  you  've  got  to  come  down  to  the  'Varsity 
grounds  and  put  on  a  canvas  jacket  this  noon — 
you  Ve  got  to,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  get  out !  "  grunted  Hart. 

"But  why  not?"  he  kept  thinking.  Only 
two  or  three  practice  games  had  he  seen  and 
he  had  no  idea  that  the  whole  college  was 
waiting  for  his  appearance.  Nevertheless,  as 
he  had  stood  at  the  side  lines,  he  had  felt  all  the 
excitement  of  the  strong  man  who  watches  the 
struggles  of  others ;  he  had  itched  to  try  it. 

"  I  believe  I  could  play  that  game,"  he  said, 
looking  at  Franklin  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  'd 
just  like  a  chance  to  put  you  on  your  back." 
He  smiled  grimly. 

"  Good  !  that  's  the  proper  spirit,"  Franklin 
laughed.  "  Shake  a  leg ;  it  's  time  we  were 
starting.  You  '11  have  to  play  opposite  me. 
I  '11  make  you  hustle." 

Green's  football  togs  were  a  little  bit  tight 
and  very  stiff  and  muddy,  but  Hart  managed 
to  squeeze  into  them,  and  as  he  came  out  of 
the  dressing-room  he  found  a  small  crowd 
waiting  to  "  size  him  up,"  as  Tommy  Wilson 
expressed  it. 


A  Conversion.  73 

There  was  a  grin  on  the  ex-deputy's  face,  but 
of  course  he  was  a  little  excited.  The  grin  was 
occasioned  by  thinking  of  what  Mabel  would 
say  if  she  could  see  him  now.  "  Oh !  how  funny 
it  all  seemed  !  " 

"  Looks  the  part,"  one  of  the  group  of  pipe- 
smoking  young  men  observed,  as  the  football 
men  elbowed  their  way  through. 

His  class  gave  him  a  reckless,  uncadenced 
cheer,  at  which  the  sophomores  smiled. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  Hart  learned  a 
great  deal  in  the  next  forty-five  minutes.  His 
respect  for  Franklin  wonderfully  increased.  He 
played  off  side  and  received  a  curt  lecture  be- 
ginning, "  I  say  you,"  from  the  scrub  captain, 
without  answering  back,  and  two  or  three  times 
he  made  a  tackle,  rather  high,  of  course,  but 
successful.  Strange  to  say,  he  found  that  there 
were  so  many  things  to  think  of  that  he  did 
not  have  time  to  get  mad  clear  through.  A 
graduate  player  stood  behind  him  coaching 
every  minute,  and  a  wild,  fierce  excitement 
came  to  him,  and  Franklin  made  him  hustle 
most  convincingly. 

When  it  was  all  over,  and  he  was  walking 
back  to  college  with  Terence  Golatly,  Jimmie 


74  A  Princetonian. 

James,  and  Betts,  Hart  delivered  himself  of  the 
following  opinion  : 

"  Boys,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  's  a  great 
game ;  jingo  !  Say,  really  !  I  'm  glad  I  came  to 
college." 

"  You  've  got  to  use  your  think-tank  a  bit," 
said  Golatly. 

The  poor  scrub  players  walked,  but  the 
'Varsity  men  rode  in  a  'bus.  As  the  clattering, 
rumbling  vehicle  went  by,  Hart  made  a  mental 
statement  that,  although  unexpressed,  is  worth 
recording,  "  I  '11  ride  in  that  shebang  soon,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

As  the  freshmen  walked  down  the  path 
under  the  arched  branches  of  the  elm  trees, 
a  gray,  bent  old  man,  with  a  noble  head  and  a 
kindly  smile,  stopped  and  spoke  to  them.  He 
asked  their  class  and  names. 

"  Freshman  or  Sophomore,  Junior  or  Senior," 
observed  Golatly,  as  they  walked  on  after  the 
short  interview,  "we  're  all  old  Jimmie's  kids." 

It  was  irreverent  in  Terence  to  speak  thus  of 
the  college  president,  but  his  words  had  an  ele- 
ment of  truth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   RETROSPECTION   AND   AN   INTERRUPTION. 

HART  was  puzzling  over  a  problem  in  ge- 
ometry one  evening  when  the  door  of  his  room 
was  pushed  open  and,  without  knocking,  Ned 
Bliss,  one  of  his  friends  in  the  junior  class, 
entered. 

"  I  want  to  congratulate  you,  old  man,  on 
the  great  game  you  put  up  to-day.  I  say, 
you  Ve  got  the  'Varsity  sure  if  you  keep  on. 
Minton  and  Elliott  were  talking  about  it." 

Hart  shuffled  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  beginning  to  catch  on,  perhaps,"  he 
said,  "but  there  is  a  lot  to  learn  in  everything; 
is  n't  there  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  's  what  we  are  here  for,"  re- 
turned Bliss,  "  but  upon  my  word,  I  can  forget 
things  quicker  than  any  man  /know.  I  hope 
all  I  've  forgotten  has  done  me  some  good. — 
You  're  going  to  the  senior  dance  ?  " 
75 


76  A  Princetonian. 

11  Had  n't  thought  of  it,"  Hart  answered. 
"What  is  it?" 

",Oh,  just  a  dance,"  said  Bliss,  taking  a  seat 
on  a  window-sill  and  drumming  with  his  fingers 
on  the  glass.  "  You  had  better  come.  Lots 
of  pretty  girls.  Care  much  for  dancing  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  replied  Hart.  "  I  can  stumble 
through  a  quadrille,  if  some  one  calls  off  the 
figures." 

Bliss  smiled. 

"  I  've  got  my  sister's  card  here,"  he  went 
on  ;  "  you  know  we  fill  them  out  in  advance. 
Would  like  to  put  you  down  for  something. 
We  don't  have  a  senior  function  every  year." 

He  shoved  a  little  card  on  Hart's  desk.  The 
latter  blushed. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  would  be  much  of  a 
success,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  array  of  waltzes 
and  two-steps  mostly  filled  with  the  names  of 
upper-class  men. 

"  There  's  a  lancers,"  said  Bliss,  pointing  out 
one  of  the  few  remaining  blanks  with  his  finger. 
"  Put  your  sig  down  there." 

"  You  will  have  to  explain,"  said  Hart,  as  he 
did  so,  "  that  I  aint  much  of  a  dancer." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  want  to,  you  can  sit  it 


A  Retrospection  and  an  Interruption.    77 

out,"  said  Bliss.  "  Anyhow,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
you  are  coming." 

When  the  junior  had  left,  Hart  leaned  back 
and  rattled  his  pencil  against  his  teeth  and  fell 
into  what  Terence  Golatly  might  have  called  a 
"  trance." 

It  was  a  fine  night.  The  windows  of  the  col- 
lege rooms  were  open.  The  tinkle  of  a  banjo 
and  a  snatch  of  a  song  occasionally  wafted  out 
on  the  air.  Young  men  stopped  before  the 
buildings  and  hulloed  up  at  the  buildings.  There 
was  a  constant  chorus  of  this  from  all  over  the 
campus. 

"  Hull-1-l-o  o,  Charlie  Jackson  !  "  would  come 
a  shout ;  then  "  stick — your — head — out — of — 
the — window,"  in  one  long  word. 

This  generally  resulted  in  a  conversation  (in 
which  any  one  was  entitled  to  join)  between 
the  occupants  of  a  second-  or  third-story  room 
and  some  one  on  the  ground. 

Hart  listened  to  it  all  with  a  sense  of  unre- 
ality. A  year  ago  the  idea  that  he  could  adapt 
himself  to  such  a  life  as  this  would  have  seemed 
impossible.  His  thoughts  travelled  back  to 
Oakland.  He  could  smell  the  ham  and  com- 
bined odors  of  Van  Clees  &  Jackson's  store. 


78  A  Princetonian. 

He  knew  exactly  how  the  square  would  look. 
It  seemed  very  long  ago  and  very  far  away. 
He  felt  that  he  had  bidden  farewell  to  it  for 
good  and  all,  and  he  began  in  his  mind  to  go 
yet  even  farther  back  to  the  time  he  had  lived 
with  his  father  in  the  little  claim  shanty  on  the 
North  Fork  of  the  Platte.  He  recalled  the  first 
book  he  had  read,  Wood's  Natural  History, 
filled  with  cuts  of  wonderful  birds  and  beasts. 
He  remembered  how  he  used  to  spell  out  the 
chapters  while  he  attended  to  the  sheep.  He 
could  hear  now  in  his  imagination  the  plaintive 
first  bleats  of  the  new-born  lambs.  And  then 
the  day  of  the  freshet,  which  carried  off  almost 
all  of  the  litttle  herd  and  drowned  out  the  cor- 
rals, came  to  him.  Then  the  death  of  his 
father  all  alone  in  the  sod-house,  and  the 
weary  ride  down  to  the  town  for  help.  The 
grave  with  the  slab  of  shale  for  a  head-stone, 
where  they  had  laid  the  only  relative  he  knew 
of  in  the  world,  to  rest.  The  kindness  that  had 
been  shown  to  him  by  a  German  family  on  the 
next  half  section  was  the  next  remembrance. 
Then  came  his  apprenticeship  to  Mr.  Van 
Clees;  his  attending  public  school;  his  grow- 
ing to  be  a  man,  and  the  awakening  of  ambi- 


A  Retrospection  and  an  Interruption.    79 

tions  and  desires  for  other  things.  Oh  !  It  all 
seemed  very  long  ago  and  very  far  apart,  and 
toward  what  was  he  tending  now  ?  Life  struck 
him  as  a  very  peculiar  game  in  which  little 
things  turned  the  course  of  existence  into  unsus- 
pected channels — a  very  non-original  thought, 
but  he  dwelt  on  it. 

"  Hullo,  Pop  Hart ! "  rang  out  beneath  his 
window. 

The  interruption  had  come  just  as  his  thoughts 
had  reached  the  time  when  Mabel  had  first 
come  to  occupy  his  mind.  He  thrust  back  the 
letter  that  he  had  half  taken  from  his  pocket, 
addressed  to  him  in  Miss  Van  Clees's  round, 
shaded  hand,  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  Hullo  !  "  he  answered,  squeezing  through 
the  window. 

"  Come  out  on  the  campus,"  was  the  rejoin- 
der. "  Save  the  midnight  oil,  cool  your  fevered 
brow,  and  breathe  of  liberty." 

It  was  Terence  Golatly,  Congeve,  and  Jimmy 
James.  The  light  of  Mr.  Golatly's  cigarette 
gleamed  like  a  firefly  below  as  he  waved  it  in 
time  to  his  oration. 

Hart  turned  down  the  light  and  put  on  his 
shabby  wide-awake  and  joined  Terence  and  the 


8o  A  Princetonian. 

others  below  on  the  grass  plot.  They  strolled 
over  in  the  direction  of  Old  North.  Several 
young  men  whom  he  did  not  recognize  in  the 
half-light  called  Hart  by  name  as  they  passed 
him  ;  he  limped  slightly,  he  had  received  a 
wrench  in  the  practice  game  of  the  morning. 

"  How  is  your  ankle,  old  man  ? "  inquired 
some  one  as  they  passed  a  group  lying  at  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  great  elm  trees. 

"All  right,  thanks,"  he  answered.  But  a 
thrill  of  pleasure  went  through  his  veins,  for  the 
inquirer  was  Minton,  the  half-back.  He  re- 
membered feeling  the  same  sensation  when 
Sheriff  Holly  had  congratulated  him  on  the 
way  Bord  McGovern  had  been  brought  into 
town. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   HERO   OF  A   TEA-FIGHT. 

THE  afternoon  before  the  "  senior  function," 
Ned  Bliss,  Jed  Elliott,  the  football  captain, 
and  Minton,  the  half-back,  were  walking  across 
the  campus.  They  were  dressed  in  their  very 
best  clothes.  Two  girls  were  walking  in  the 
midst  of  the  little  party,  which  also  included 
Hollingsworth  and  a  small  bearded  senior  with 
eye-glasses  and  a  pale  ascetic  countenance. 

Hollingsworth  was  the  only  man  who  wore  a 
silk  hat.  This  of  course  was  the  prerogative  of 
the  junior,  but  he  alone  laid  claim  to  it  on  this 
particular  afternoon. 

One  of  the  girls  was  walking  ahead  ;  she  was 
very  tall  and  graceful.  She  had  rather  a  small 
head,  well  set  above  a  pair  of  splendid  shoul- 
ders, and  she  stepped  like  one  who  enjoyed 
life. 

Her  features  were  very  regular,  and  her  eyes, 
81 


82  A  Princetonian. 

that  were  deep-set,  were  an  honest  gray,  al- 
though her  hair  (she  had  a  wealth  of  it)  was 
so  dark  as  to  be  almost  black.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  face  that  resembled  Hollingsworth, 
but  in  the  resemblance  a  great  deal  of  the  pride 
and  the  look  of  rather  sneering  superiority  had 
been  eliminated.  Little  Miss  Bliss,  who  was 
walking  beside  her,  was  a  pretty  girl,  with  that 
prettiness  that  is  most  attractive  in  the  days  of 
early  womanhood,  and  that  is  prone  to  change 
as  the  spirits  are  dashed  by  years  or  trouble. 
Her  hair  curled  in  a  roll  above  the  prominent 
forehead.  Her  eyebrows  were  exquisitely 
drawn,  and  as  delicate  as  the  lines  of  a  brush 
stroke. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  your  brother  to- 
day ?  "  inquired  Miss  Bliss,  looking  up  at  the 
tall  girl,  whose  shoulder  was  about  even  with 
the  top  of  her  head. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  turned. 

"  He  is  awfully  grumpy  for  some  reason  or 
other,"  she  replied.  "  Probably  sat  up  too 
late." 

The  truth  was  Mr.  Kenmore  Hollingsworth 
had  been  sitting  up  too  late  for  a  good  many 
nights  in  succession,  and  to-day  he  was  rather 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea- Fight.  83 

angry  and  disappointed.  Not  angry  at  himself — 
that  would  have  been  quite  impossible  to  his 
nature  ;  but  angry  at  luck,  which  meant  lost 
money,  and  disappointed  that  his  father  had 
refused,  in  a  letter  received  only  half  an  hour 
ago  to  allow  him  to  draw  three  months'  allow- 
ance in  advance. 

As  they  walked  past  the  old  chapel  that 
grateful  and  righteous  sentiment  had  permitted 
to  hold  its  innocuous  existence  under  the 
shadow  of  Nassau  Hall,  Bliss  leaned  across  his 
friend  Minton,  who  was  walking  next  to  the 
tall  young  woman,  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone, 
interrupting  the  conversation. 

"  Here  he  comes  now,"  he  said. 

The  girls  looked  down  the  pathway.  Two 
figures  were  approaching. 

"Who  is  that  chap  with  him?"  inquired 
Elliott. 

"  Oh,  he  's  a  character,"  returned  Bliss.  "  You 
see  characters  get  nicknamed  very  early.  That 's 
Patrick  Corse  Heaphy — '  the  young  man  with 
a  purpose.' " 

Hart  and  Mr.  Heaphy  by  this  time  had 
approached  so  close  that  they  had  stepped  off 
onto  the  grass  to  allow  the  others  to  go  by.  As 


84  A  Princetonian. 

he  and  his  friend  lifted  their  hats  the  salute  was 
returned  with  a  few  words  of  greeting  by  all 
except  Hollingsworth,  who  laughed  rather  sneer- 
ingly. 

"  That  is  the  funniest-looking  freshman  I 
ever  saw,"  he  remarked  to  the  senior  with  the 
beard. 

The  latter,  who  had  not  joined  in  the  conver- 
sation, raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  He  looks  like  a  prehistoric  Hibernian,"  he 
said,  "  a  Stone  Age  Irishman, — get  the  idea  ? 
Rather  fancy  there  's  good  material  in  that 
chap,  eh  !  I  '11  draw  him  out  some  day." 

The  little  senior,  whose  name  was  Danforth, 
prided  himself  upon  his  deep  perceptions.  He 
exalted  in  individuality,  and  was  the  apostle  of 
sensation.  It  was  Danforth's  one  idea  to  be 
not  eccentric  but  original.  He  laid  claim  to 
being  a  cynic,  a  pessimist,  and  an  unbeliever. 
Gifted  with  a  mind  that  grasped  quickly  and  a 
power  of  ready  expression,  he  could  have  gained 
honest  laurels.  His  wit  was  ready,  and  he  drank 
deeper  of  learning  and  liquor  and  showed  it  less 
in  appearance  than  any  man  on  the  college 
roster. 

Mr.  Danforth  played  an  extremely  good  hand 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea-Fight.  85 

at  poker;  wrote  good  verses  that  were  too 
wicked  for  the  college  literary  magazine ;  and, 
in  his  search  for  artistic  sensations,  had  once 
smoked  hashish  behind  the  locked  doors  of  his 
room  in  Witherspoon  Hall. 

Now,  it  was  toward  Witherspoon  Hall  that 
the  group  turned  their  steps.  Ned  Bliss  was  giv- 
ing a  little  tea  in  his  rooms,  his  mother  was  to 
join  them,  and  as  an  evidence  that  something 
unusual  was  going  on,  a  number  of  other  girls, 
each  accompanied  by  a  few  satellites,  could  be 
seen  walking  in  the  direction  of  Witherspoon 
along  the  college  walks. 

As  Hart  had  passed  by  he  had  noticed  the 
tall  girl,  and  his  eyes  had  happened  to  meet  the 
frank  glance  of  the  gray  eyes.  It  had  affected 
him  so  much  for  the  moment  that  he  had  paid 
little  attention  to  what  his  companion  was 
saying. 

Patrick  Corse  Heaphy  was  certainly  a  char- 
acter. He  sat  next  to  Hart  in  the  class-room, 
and  during  the  last  three  or  four  days  the  two 
had  struck  up  quite  a  friendship. 

As  Golatly  put  it,  Mr.  Heaphy  might  "  wear 
a  French  bonnet  but  he  would  never  get 
the  map  of  Ireland  off  his  face."  The  heavy 


86  A  Princetonian. 

upper  lip,  the  shock  of  coarse  red  hair,  and  the 
strong  lines  to  the  corners  of  the  mouth  would 
have  betrayed  him,  even  without  the  slight 
touch  of  the  brogue  that  was  more  in  the  inflec- 
tion of  his  sentences  than  in  the  pronunciation 
of  his  words. 

Hart  had  been  at  first  rather  annoyed  by 
Patrick's  attentions,  but  his  earnestness,  and  the 
bond  of  sympathy  that  comes  from  serious 
determinations,  had  rather  awakened  a  desire 
for  better  acquaintance. 

Heaphy's  room  was  a  small  one  not  far  from 
Hart's  in  Edwards  Hall.  In  a  rash  moment 
when  visited  by  a  sophomoric  press  gang,  Mr. 
Heaphy  had  forcibly  stated  that  he  had  come 
to  college  "  for  a  purpose."  As  he  always 
walked  in  quick,  short  steps,  as  if  the  purpose 
was  only  a  few  feet  in  advance  and  rapidly 
receding,  the  sobriquet  had  stuck  to  him. 

"  That  was  a  pretty  young  lady,"  said  Hart, 
interrupting  Heaphy's  opinions  on  the  morn- 
ing's lecture  in  chemistry, — "the  tall  one  I 
mean." 

"  I  don't  get  on  very  well  with  ladies,"  re- 
turned Heaphy.  "  I  never  know  what  to  say 
to  them.  Do  you  envy  people?  " 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea-Fight.  87 

"  I  don't  know,"  Hart  answered  ;  "  I  never 
thought  about  it." 

"  I  do,"  answered  Heaphy,  with  a  bitterness 
that  Hart  failed  to  recognize.  "  I  envy  success. 
I  envy  strength.  I  envy  lots  of  things." 

He  had  started  to  walk  faster  and  Hart 
lengthened  his  stride  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"  I  like  to  win,"  continued  Heaphy.  "  There  's 
a  power-r-r,"  (Mr.  Heaphy 's  rolling  r-r  was  Irish 
and  no  mistake) — "  a  power  in  it." 

"  I  suppose  there  is,"  said  Hart,  absent- 
mindedly. 

"  Power  in  success,"  went  on  Heaphy.  "  No 
matter  what  it  is.  A  fool  can  be  well  liked  if  he 
chooses,  but  the  other  is  different." 

"  Hold  your  horses,"  said  Hart,  "  you  're 
getting  beyond  me." 

The  "  young  man  with  a  purpose  "  did  not 
pursue  the  subject,  but  turned  it  at  once. 

"  Will  you  come  up  into  my  room  ?  "  he  asked 
suddenly.  "  We  '11  pole  our  Greek  together. 
Will  you  come  now  ?  " 

Hart  thanked  him  and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  I  '11  go  over  to  the  gym,"  he  said, 
"  and  pull  those  weights." 

"  Which   would   you  rather  do  ?  "  inquired 


88  A  Princetonian. 

Heaphy,  "  play  the  best  game  of  football  or  win 
the  Baird  prizes  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hart,  frowning  a  little, 
"  I  never  thought  about  it  much." 

Without  another  word  he  took  the  cinder 
cross-path  that  led  in  the  direction  of  the  gym- 
nasium. Just  at  the  stone  steps  that  led  up 
to  the  dingy  entrances  of  Witherspoon  Hall 
he  ran  across  the  party  that  he  had  met  on  the 
front  campus.  Bliss  stepped  out  to  meet  him. 

"  I  say,  old  man,  won't  you  come  up  to  my 
room  ?  We  're  going  to  have  a  little  tea-fight 
up  there.  A  lot  of  girls,  and  you  will  meet  a 
good  many  you  will  see  to-night  at  the  dance." 

Hart  at  first  thought  of  backing  out.  He 
had  almost  forgotten  about  the  dance. 

"  I  am  going  over  to  the  gymnasium,"  he 
said.  "  Besides  " — he  hesitated  and  Bliss  broke 
in  : 

"  Oh,  never  mind  going  over  and  dressing 
up ;  come  just  as  you  are.  Tommy  Wilson  's 
up  there  in  a  pair  of  corduroy  breeches." 

He  plucked  Hart's  sleeve,  and  the  latter 
allowed  himself  to  be  led  toward  where  the 
others  were  standing. 

"  I  am  going  to  present  you  to  Miss  Hollings- 


The  Hero  of  a  TecL-Fight.  89 

worth  and  my  sister,"  said  Bliss.  "  Miss 
Hollingsworth  is  a  ripper,  don't  you  think?" 

"  I  am  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance," 
said  Hart  to  each  of  the  young  ladies. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  had  extended  her  hand 
and  he  had  bowed  over  it  not  ungracefully. 
Her  brother,  whom  Hart  remembered  as  one 
of  the  heelers  of  the  Glee  Club  whom  he  had 
seen  in  Omaha,  hardly  nodded,  but  Elliott  and 
Minton  greeted  him  in  a  familiar  and  friendly 
way.  Danforth,  to  whom  Hart  was  also  intro- 
duced, used  the  latter's  own  phrase  in  recogni- 
tion. 

"  Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Hart,"  he  said,  and  he  spoke  tactfully  of  having 
desired  for  some  time  to  meet  him. 

Despite  all  this  Hart  was  not  altogether  at 
his  ease  as  he  followed  the  others  up  the  worn, 
narrow  stairway.  On  the  second  floor,  Bliss 
threw  open  the  doors  and  ushered  the  party 
into  his  room.  It  was  a  typical  college  interior. 
There  were  already  some  people  there,  and  an 
odor  of  brewing  tea.  There  were  photographs 
in  profusion,  and  orange  and  black  bedecked 
every  corner. 

On  a  window  seat  sat  Tommy  Wilson  in  a 


90  A  Princetonian. 

very  old  pair  of  corduroys,  and  beside  him  a 
vivacious  little  girl,  who  was  playing  an  almost 
inaudible  accompaniment  on  a  banjo  she  held 
across  her  knee  to  Tommy's  conversation. 

Mrs.  Bliss,  kindly  faced,  with  gray  hair  and 
a  young  girlish  figure,  welcomed  the  new- 
comers, with  a  little  reproach  to  her  son  for 
having  been  so  late. 

"  I  have  heard  about  you,  Mr.  Hart,"  she 
said,  extending  her  hand  across  the  table. 

"Oh!  And  Mr.  Minton  told  us  about  your 
adventure  with  the  proctor,"  put  in  Miss 
Hollingsworth. 

Hart  looked  reproachfully  at  the  half-back, 
but,  failing  to  catch  his  eye,  he  answered, 
flushing: 

"  I  am  rather  glad  the  faculty  did  not  hear 
of  it.  I  am  afraid  it  was  very  foolish." 

"Why,  I  think  it  was  splendid,"  said  Miss 
Bliss. 

Hart  did  not  know  what  to  reply  to  this,  and 
he  took  the  cup  of  tea  that  Mrs.  Bliss  extended 
to  him,  wondering  why  she  had  slipped  a  slice 
of  lemon  in  it. 

An  old  colored  man,  with  gray  hair  and  a  dig- 
nified family-servant  countenance,  came  from 
the  bedroom.  The  room  was  so  crowded  that 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea- Fight.  91 

he  got  no  farther  than  the  door,  where  he 
paused  with  a  large  plate  of  chicken  croquettes 
in  one  hand  and  a  bowl  of  salad  in  the  other. 

"  Won't  you  pass  the  croquettes,  Mr.  Hart  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Bliss,  glancing  up  kindly. 

Looking  down  rather  hopelessly  at  the  cup 
of  tea  that  he  had  been  blowing  to  cool  a  little, 
Hart  stepped  forward. 

"  Let  me  take  your  cup,"  said  Miss  Hollings- 
worth,  readily,  "  then  you  can  come  back  to 
me  and  get  it, — or  here,  put  it  on  the  corner  of 
the  mantelpiece,  and  I  will  save  your  seat  for 
you." 

Hart  took  the  plate  of  croquettes  in  one  hand 
and  the  bowl  of  salad  in  the  other. 

Hollingsworth  had  lifted  himself  into  the 
window  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  girl  with 
the  banjo.  As  Hart  approached  he  said  some- 
thing that  caused  the  girl  to  stop  her  playing 
and  look  up  curiously. 

"  Won't  you  have  some  of  this,  Miss  ?  "  be- 
gan Hart,  politely,  and  then  he  saw  for  the  first 
time  that  no  plates  had  been  handed  around. 
Bliss  at  this  moment  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  Hold  on,  old  man,"  he  said  ;  "  wait  till  I 
get  the  platters." 

Hart  stood  there  awkwardly,   not  knowing 


92  A  Princetonian. 

what  to  do,  while  Bliss  passed  around  and  dis- 
tributed the  plates  from  the  table.  Hart  had 
just  perceived  that  something  in  his  method  of 
procedure  was  wrong,  when  there  came  the 
sound  of  singing  from  outside.  Hollingsworth 
turned  suddenly  in  response  to  an  interrogation 
of  the  girl  at  his  side,  and  his  elbow  struck  the 
bottom  of  the  bowl  of  salad.  How  it  occurred 
Hart  could  never  tell,  but  the  bowl  slipped 
from  his  fingers  and  landed  bottom  uppermost 
on  the  top  of  Mr.  Hollingsworth's  silk  hat, 
which  received  the  contents  without  spilling 
even  so  much  as  a  drop  of  the  dressing.  Hol- 
lingsworth observed  the  accident  with  an  ex- 
clamation of  anger. 

"  The  clumsy  chump !  "  he  said,  looking  up 
at  poor  Hart,  who  in  his  effort  to  secure  the 
lost  balance  of  the  salad  bowl  had  distributed 
two  or  three  of  the  croquettes  on  the  floor. 
"What  are  you  doing?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  Hart  began. 

Hollingsworth  was  in  an  irritable  mood. 

"  Oh,  get  out,"  he  said,  "  before  you  do  more 
damage  !  " 

Hart  had  now  grown  to  be  a  little  angry 
himself. 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea-Fight.  93 

"  It  is  your  own  fault ;  you  did  it,"  he  an- 
swered, a  snap  coming  to  his  eyes.  "  You 
struck  it  with  your  elbow." 

Bliss  had  now  for  the  first  time  observed  the 
catastrophe.  He  broke  out  into  a  roar  of 
laughter,  in  which  the  others  joined. 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  handing  things  around 
like  that  anyhow  !  "  went  on  the  owner  of  the 
silk  hat ;  and  he  said  something  about  being 
"brought  up  in  a  saw-mill,"  beneath  his  breath. 

At  this  moment  the  girl  in  the  corner  spoke 
up. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that  little  thing,  Mr.  Hart," 
she  said.  "Your  tea  is  getting  cold." 

Bliss  had  relieved  his  guest  of  the  plate  of 
croquettes,  saying  in  an  undertone  : 

"  That  's  all  right,  old  man ;  the  cleverest 
thing  you  ever  did." 

Poor  Hart  could  not  see  anything  clever  in 
it,  and  only  stumbled  through  an  inaudible 
reply  as  he  managed  to  reach  the  corner  where 
Miss  Hollingsworth  was  seated.  She  made 
room  for  him  on  the  little  sofa  and  reached 
down  the  cup  of  tea.  Hart  looked  at  her. 
Her  eyes  were  full  of  laughter. 

"  I  am  awfully  glad  you  did  that,"  she  said ; 


94  A  Princetonian. 

"  it  was  simply  lovely.  Now  he  will  have  to 
give  up  wearing  that  horrible  thing  for  the  rest 
of  the  evening  at  any  rate." 

Tommy  Wilson  took  up  the  hat  and  the 
bowl  just  as  it  was. 

"  Will  any  lady  in  the  audience  please  lend 
me  a  gold  watch?"  he  said;  "or  a  wedding 
ring ;  or  a  lace  handkerchief  would  make  a 
good  substitute.  You  have  observed,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  what  my  assistant  has  carefully 
deposited  within  this  ornamental  head  gear. 
Sir,"  he  remarked,  turning  to  Hollingsworth 
with  a  mock  bow,  "  pray  don't  be  worried." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  was  so  awkward,"  began  Hart, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  interrupted  Miss  Hol- 
lingsworth. "  It  was  most  successful,  and  his 
getting  angry  was  the  funniest  thing  of  all." 

In  fact  the  ridicule  that  Hart  had  at  first  felt 
would  have  been  heaped  on  him  seemed  now 
to  cover  Hollingsworth,  and  seeing  there  was 
nothing  for  it,  he  accepted  the  situation  as 
gracefully  as  he  could. 

The  old  colored  man  removed  the  debris, 
and  things  went  on  much  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  The  feeling  of  embarrassment  had 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea- Fight.  95 

left  Hart's  mind.  The  girl  at  his  side  had  not 
asked  him  any  questions,  but  had  begun  a  little 
story  of  a  similar  accident  she  had  once  seen  at 
a  dinner. 

"  But  it  was  not  half  so  good  as  this,"  she 
added,  at  which  Hart's  spirits  rose.  "You're 
coming  to  the  dance  to-night  ?  "  she  said. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  Hart  answered,  "  I  am." 

"  Miss  Bliss  told  me  you  had  a  dance  with 
her,"  went  on  Miss  Hollingsworth.  "  I  have 
just  one  vacant  place." 

Something  prompted  Hart  to  do  the  proper 
thing. 

"  Won't  you  give  it  to  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  the  girl.  "  It 's  the 
fourth, — now,  don't  forget,  will  you  ?  " 

The  party  broke  up,  and  it  being  too  late  to 
go  over  to  the  gymnasium,  Hart  went  to  his 
room.  Suddenly  a  peculiar  thought  came  to 
his  mind.  He  remembered  that  the  young 
men  of  the  Glee  Club  troupe  had  all  worn  what 
are  termed  "  swallow-tails  "  in  Oakland.  The 
idea  that  it  should  ever  be  necessary  for  him  to 
possess  such  a  thing  had  seemed  preposterous. 
What  if  it  were  necessary  to  appear  in  one  at 
the  sophomore  dance.  He  would  have  given 


96  A  Princetonian. 

a  great  deal  to  have  gotten  out  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  yet  he  felt  a  thrill  of  disappointment 
at  the  idea  of  missing  the  fourth  figure,  as  he 
termed  it.  It  plunged  him  into  despair. 

"  Hull-1-l-o,  Hart !  "  sounded  beneath  his  win- 
dow, 

It  was  Franklin. 

"  May  I  come  up  ?  " 

In  another  moment  he  had  entered  the  room. 
Without  beating  about  the  bush  Hart  explained 
his  predicament. 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin.  "  Of  course,  you  have 
got  to  wear  evening  dress.  But  here 's  the 
idea, — take  mine.  I  'm  not  going.  It  will  just 
about  fit  you.  Here  's  the  scheme, — come  over 
to  my  room  and  dress." 

As  they  went  out  into  the  corridor,  Patrick 
Corse  Heaphy  came  up  the  stairs. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-night  ? "  he 
inquired. 

"  Going  to  the  dance,"  answered  Hart. 

"  That 's  a  good  idea,"  Heaphy  suddenly  re- 
sponded. "  Guess  I  '11  go  too." 

To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Heaphy  had  surprised 
himself  in  making  this  statement  more  than  he 


The  Hero  of  a  Tea-Fight.          97 

had  surprised  the  others.  He  hesitated  a 
moment,  plunged  up  the  stairs,  two  steps  at  a 
time,  and  slammed  the  door  of  his  room  behind 
him. 

Hart  and  Franklin  stopped  and  joined  one 
of  the  groups  sitting  under  the  elms  on  the 
front  campus. 

"  Queer  duck,  that  friend  of  yours,"  observed 
Franklin.  "  I  wonder  what  he  's  going  to  make 
out  of  this  place." 

"  I  wonder  what  I  'm  going  to  make  out  of 
it,"  said  Hart  slowly;  "that  sort  of  puzzles 
me." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  YOUNG    MAN    WITH  A   PURPOSE. 

BESIDES  slamming  the  door,  Mr.  Heaphy  had 
carefully  locked  it.  Then  he  had  opened  the 
lid  of  his  trunk  and  took  out  some  neatly  folded 
clothes.  It  was  a  dress  suit,  ready-made,  but 
cut  in  the  latest  fashion.  It  had  never  before 
adorned  Mr.  Heaphy's  person,  except  upon  the 
occasion  when  he  had  tried  it  on.  Why  he 
possessed  it,  or  why  he  possessed  many  other 
things,  which  did  not  show  or  to  which  he 
never  referred,  would  have  been  a  mystery. 
But  Heaphy  was  something  of  a  mystery  him- 
self, which  may  be  sufficient  excuse  for  an  ex- 
planation later.  He  laid  the  clothing  carefully 
out  on  the  narrow  little  bed  and  sat  on  a  chair 
at  the  desk.  He  half  repented  of  the  sudden 
decision  he  had  made,  and  as  there  was  an  hour 
or  more  before  he  would  have  to  begin  to 
dress,  he  opened  his  geometry  notes  and  turned 
the  leaves  slowly  over  with  his  thumb. 
98 


The  Young  Man  with  a  Purpose.     99 

For  some  time  he  sat  there  trying  to  force 
his  mind  to  work.,  but  there  was  one  idea  that 
he  could  not  get  rid  of — Why  did  he  not  enjoy 
things?  Why  could  he  not  go  about  life  in 
the  careless,  happy  fashion,  after  the  manner  of 
so  many  people  about  him  ?  Even  Hart  seemed 
to  be  catching  it, — he  was  being  sought  after, 
his  friendship  seemed  to  be  desired.  He  was 
going  to  make  a  success.  Poor  Heaphy  sighed. 
If  there  had  been  a  feminine  streak  in  his  nature 
he  might  have  wept. 

There  were  many  things,  however,  that  the 
young  man  with  a  purpose  did  not  bring  into 
his  reasoning.  His  life  had  been  a  most  pecul- 
iar one,  to  explain  which  takes  us  back  to  his 
early  youth.  It  had  been  spent  in  luxury.  He 
had  been  born  in  a  house  with  a  large  French 
mansard  roof,  and  there  were  any  number  of 
beautiful  cast-iron  statues  in  the  front  yard  be- 
fore it —  Dianas,  Newfoundland  dogs,  and  stags, 
not  forgetting  a  spurty  little  fountain  with  a 
slimy  green  cherub. 

It  was  a  remarkable  fact  that  Patrick  Corse 
Heaphy 's  father  had  had  one  large  regret  when 
his  son  was  born.  It  was  that  this  small,  gur- 
gling, spluttering  bunch  of  life  would  have  to 


too  A  Princetonian. 

inherit  the  name  of  Heaphy.  It  would  not 
have  been  so  bad,  Patrick's  father  reasoned 
within  himself,  if  he  were  poor,  but  along  with 
the  red  hair  and  the  much-despised  name,  his 
son  would  one  day  inherit  wealth,  real  estate, 
and  the  sole  ownership  of  the  Pliny  Mills, 
where  the  elder  Heaphy  had  begun  his  own 
successful  career  at  the  age  of  twelve. 

Patrick's  father  had  another  secret  also.  He 
had  envied  the  appearance  of  those  members 
of  the  near-by  country  club,  men  of  his  own 
age,  who  rode  stockily  built  little  horses  and 
drove  tandems.  Mr.  Heaphy  had  sense  enough 
to  know  that  he  would  look  ridiculous  dressed 
in  loose  breeches  and  tight  boots,  and  he  felt 
sure  that,  if  he  ever  drove  a  tandem,  the  leader 
would  turn  around  and  laugh  at  him  ;  but  he 
envied  these  people  nevertheless,  and  would 
have  given  worlds  to  have  been  one  of  them. 
Of  this  of  course  he  said  nothing,  not  even  to 
his  wife.  In  fact  Patrick's  father  had  been  a 
somewhat  sensible,  shrewd,  uneducated  snob. 

Patrick's  mother  had  become  accustomed  to 
her  life  of  luxury  only  by  degrees.  Before 
little  Patrick  was  born  she  had  sat  looking  out 
of  the  window  at  a  laundry-maid  hanging  up  the 


The  Young  Man  with  a  Purpose.   101 

wash  in  the  latticed  enclosure  behind  the  house. 
She  remembered  the  time  when  she  had  done 
just  the  same  thing,  a  clothes-pin  in  her  mouth, 
the  way  the  laundry-maid  was  standing.  Her 
knuckles  had  itched  for  the  ridges  of  the  scrub- 
bing board,  and  she  had  craved  cabbage  and 
blue  corned  beef.  Her  strong-mindedness, 
however,  had  been  shown  by  the  way  she  stood 
out  for  "  Patrick  Corse  "  (her  father's  name) 
against "  Clarence  Alexander,"  proposed  by  her 
husband.  And  she  had  lived  just  long  enough 
to  see  the  result  of  her  victory,  for  little  Patrick 
was  baptized  out  of  a  silver  soap-dish  in  his 
mother's  high-ceilinged  room,  two  days  before 
she  died. 

After  Mr.  Heaphy  had  laid  his  wife  to  rest 
beneath  a  magnificent  pile  of  assorted  granite, 
he  had  turned  his  attention  to  his  only  son. — 
"  He  should  be  a  gentleman  and  have  all  his 
fancy  spoke  for." 

Thus  it  might  seem  that  young  Patrick's 
path  was  to  be  one  of  roses  ;  but  he  would 
have  none  of  it. 

The  glass  pilot-house  affair  that  topped  the 
mansard  roof  became  stocked  with  Patrick's 
cast-off  playthings.  His  greatest  pleasure  was 


102  A  Princetonian. 

digging  in  the  garden  or  working  with  hammer 
and  nails  in  the  empty  chicken-house  behind 
the  stable. 

He  was  not  pretty  as  a  child  ;  he  had  a  broad 
flat  face,  a  well  shaped  head,  and  a  tangle  of 
coarse  red  hair.  When  dressed  in  his  velvet 
suit  and  leggings— like  the  children  of  the 
country-club  people, — he  looked  awkward  and 
uncomfortable,  and,  if  the  truth  be  told,  at  such 
times  he  was  most  unhappy.  He  had  one  or 
two  odd  habits.  If  he  was  puzzled,  he  scratched 
his  head,  and  he  walked  in  long  strides  with  his 
arms  hanging  loose  from  his  shoulders,  like  a 
laboring  man.  His  hands  and  feet  were  large 
and  heavy ;  there  was  no  elasticity  in  his  figure. 

The  day  before  Patrick's  eleventh  birthday 
an  accident  occurred  on  the  railway,  and  poor 
Mr.  Heaphy  the  elder  had  been  a  victim  of  the 
usual  conflagration. 

The  funeral  services  were  not  impressive,  nor 
was  the  scene  at  the  reading  of  the  will.  At  the 
reading  it  was  shown  that  the  Pliny  Mills  were 
sold.  All  the  property  had  been  given  in  trust 
for  Patrick  in  the  care  of  a  well-known  New 
York  firm,  and  the  income  derived  therefrom 
left — as  the  words  ran — "  To  my  son  Patrick 


The  Young  Man  with  a  Purpose.    103 

for  educational  and  travelling  expenses  and  the 
covering  of  expenditures  that  are  necessary  to 
the  life  of  a  private  gentleman  of  means  and 
leisure.  It  is  my  wish  that  he  engage  in  no 
mercantile  pursuit." 

Mr.  Heaphy's  cat  was  out  of  the  bag  at  last. 
But  Patrick,  sitting  there  in  an  ill-fitting  suit  of 
black,  swung  his  heavy  feet  and  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  coarse  red  hair,  unconscious  of  the 
amused  glances  of  the  lawyers.  No  one  would 
have  thought  that  the  boy  was  grieving  deeply. 

And  after  this,  Patrick,  having  no  relatives, 
had  been  hustled  off  to  boarding-school.  Here 
he  made  no  intimates,  and  only  once  had  he 
attracted  attention, — the  time  when  he  fought 
for  one  whole  hour,  with  a  dogged  weeping 
courage,  and  had  the  school  bully  at  a  stand- 
still. 

There  had  grown  upon  him  during  these 
years — for  he  spent  his  vacations  at  the  second 
master's  house — a  curious  way  of  walking ;  he 
carried  his  head  to  one  side  and  raised  one 
shoulder  higher  than  the  other.  Neither  the 
school  physician  nor  Patrick  himself  knew  that 
his  grandfather  (Heaphy,  the  charcoal  man)  had 
carried  his  head  and  shoulders  in  that  same 


1O4  A  Princetonian. 

way,  and  had  been  the  strongest  man  in  thir- 
teen counties.  No  matter  how  Patrick  dressed 
he  had  the  appearance  of  a  child  of  ambitious 
poverty. 

And  thus  he  had  come  to  college,  loving  no 
one,  trying  hard  for  complete  success ;  his  only 
happiness,  hard  work, — and  eaten  up  with  am- 
bition. 

No  wonder  that  this  strange,  unusual  crea- 
ture should  feel  bitter  against  the  world.  It  did 
not  believe  in  him,  he  thought,  and  he  had  be- 
gun to  doubt  himself — a  most  unhappy  thing  to 
do. 

Money  to  Heaphy  meant  nothing.  He  did 
not  know  how  to  spend  or  how  to  enjoy  it.  At 
the  mere  scratch  of  a  pen,  he  could  have 
bought  the  best  room  in  Witherspoon  Hall  ; 
he  could  have  hung  it  with  tapestry  and  filled 
it  with  beautiful  things. 

It  is  not  a  remarkable  fact  that  if  a  man  does 
not  know  how  to  spend  his  income,  there  are 
plenty  willing  to  teach  him,  and  Heaphy  could 
have  held  court  and  driven  tandem,  if  he  had 
so  willed  it,  but  the  role  of  Aladdin  held  no  at- 
traction for  him.  He  had  no  desire  to  stroke 
the  lamp  or  to  command  the  genii.  But  to  re- 
turn to  the  room  in  Edwards  and  leave  this 


The  Young  Man  with  a  Purpose.   105 

long  digression.  Looking  up  at  his  cheap  little 
clock,  Heaphy  perceived  that  he  had  just  time 
to  run  over  to  his  eating  club,  if  he  did  not  wish 
to  go  supperless  to  the  reception. 

He  had  never  been  to  a  dance  in  his  life,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  Hart's  expressing  his  own 
determination  to  put  in  an  appearance,  he  would 
never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

Heaphy  had  determined  deliberately  to  make 
a  friend  of  Newton  Hart,  and  to  win,  if  possi- 
ble, his  regard. 

At  about  half-past  nine  Mr.  Heaphy  had  com- 
pleted his  toilet  and  looked  at  himself  in  the 
glass.  He  had  paid  particular  attention  to  his 
hair,  but  it  stood  stiff  and  straight  in  a  red, 
wiry  tangle  that  refused  to  remain  parted. 
Around  the  narrow  standing  collar  was  a  white 
satin  tie,  forsooth  made  fast  with  a  palpable 
elastic  band  ;  and,  to  complete  the  tone,  he  had 
thrust  a  black  silk  handkerchief  with  a  red  bor- 
der into  his  waistcoat. 

With  many  misgivings  he  left  the  room  and 
walked  down  the  corridor,  and  knocked  on 
Hart's  door.  There  was  no  answer.  His  cour- 
age almost  failed  him  for  a  moment,  but  at  last 
he  started  alone  across  the  campus  for  Univer- 
sity Hall  where  the  reception  was  being  held. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  DANCE. 

THE  windows  were  down  and  the  music  of 
the  orchestra  throbbed  on  the  air.  The  big 
veranda  (the  Hall  had  originally  been  intended 
for  a  hotel)  was  enclosed  by  sheets  of  canvas. 
A  large  crowd  was  gathered  about  the  entrance. 
As  he  approached  the  table  at  which  the  tickets 
were  being  sold,  it  not  being  an  invitation 
affair,  he  saw  Hart  and  Congreve  in  the  line 
ahead  of  him.  The  three  freshmen  entered 
the  room  together.  It  was  very  brilliantly 
lighted  and  decked  with  banner  trophies  and 
long  streamers  of  orange  and  black.  The 
orchestra  occupied  the  stage  at  the  end  of  the 
hall,  and  the  first  number  had  just  begun. 

Congreve  saw  a  girl  whom  he  knew  well  in 

the  city,  and  left  Hart  and  Heaphy  standing  in 

the  corner.     Little  Miss  Bliss  walked  by  on  the 

arm   of  a  tall  senior.      She  leaned  back   and 

106 


The  Dance.  107 

nodded  pleasantly  to  Hart.  The  senior  followed 
her  glance. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  strange 
thing  that  in  the  freshman  year  about  twenty- 
five  men  come  to  the  front  for  some  reason 
and  become  known  to  the  college  at  large.  It 
takes  two  years  about  to  bring  the  others  out. 
Those  two  chaps  are  in  the  twenty-five.  I 
don't  suppose  that  there  is  a  man  in  college 
who  does  n't  know  them  by  sight.  Of  course 
the  big  fellow's  belonging  to  football  accounts 
for  it  with  him,  but  I  think  we  will  hear  from 
the  other  one  too.  Strange  looking  bird  !  " 

Heaphy  had  begun  to  feel  very  ill  at  ease, 
and  Hart  was  struggling  against  the  same  sen- 
sation. As  soon  as  he  had  come  in  he  had 
looked  around  for  Miss  Hollingsworth  and  at 
last  he  saw  her  surrounded  by  a  cordon  of 
black  coats  in  the  farther  corner. 

One  thing  that  made  Hart  nervous  was 
noticing  that  they  danced  very  differently  from 
the  way  people  danced  at  Oakland.  There 
was  no  stamping  or  calling  from  one  couple  to 
another,  and  they  went  through  a  quadrille 
without  any  one  shouting  out  the  figures. 

He  wondered  what  Mabel  would  say  to  the 


io8  A  Princetonian. 

dresses.  Hers  had  always  been  the  best  at 
Oakland,  but  somehow  he  could  not  exactly 
imagine  her  here  beside  him.  He  felt  sure  that 
she  would  be  uncomfortable.  Instead  of  enter- 
ing into  the  gayety,  Hart  began  to  be  much 
depressed. 

"  I  would  n't  know  what  to  say  to  these 
people,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  I  wonder 
what  they  talk  about." 

Neither  he  nor  the  "  young  man  with  a 
purpose  "  had  moved  since  they  had  entered 
the  room.  Suddenly  Bliss  caught  sight  of 
them  and  hurried  up. 

"  Look  here,  can't  I  introduce  you  to  some 
of  the  girls  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  know  four  or  five 
good  dancers  who  might  give  you  an  extra. 
There  's  Sally  Redmond  over  there, — jolly  girl. 
She  's  all  alone.  Come  on  !  " 

He  took  Hart  by  the  sleeve  and  led  him 
across  the  room.  Hart  felt  like  a  lumbering 
deep-sea  craft  in  charge  of  a  pilot.  Bliss  took 
his  time  and  avoided  impending  collisions  with- 
out having  to  jump  for  it,  and  steered  through 
the  dangerous  shoals  of  whirling  skirts  and 
projecting  elbows,  and  brought  his  convoy  to 
anchor  at  last  before  a  little  girl  seated  near 


The  Dance.  109 

the  window  ;  and  now  Hart  found  out  what 
they  were  talking  about. 

"  Is  n't  it  dreadfully  warm,  Mr.  Hart  ?  "  said 
the  girl.  As  she  had  been  dancing  and  was 
fanning  herself  furiously,  Hart  agreed. 

"  The  hall  looks  very  pretty,  does  n't  it  ? 
You  are  so  clever  at  decorating  things  down 
here  !  " 

Hart  looked  around  him. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it 's  pretty,"  he  said. 

"  Those  pillars  are  dreadfully  in  the  way." 

"  I  should  think  they  were." 

This  was  easy  enough.     A  pause  followed. 

"  The  floor  is  very  good,"  said  the  girl. 

Hart  looked  at  the  floor. 

"  Yes,"  he  remarked,  "  and  it  is  quite 
crowded." 

From  the  floor  his  glance  passed  to  Miss 
Redmond's  face.  She  appeared  to  be  having 
a  very  good  time.  She  was  animated  and 
smiling  as  if  they  had  been  indulging  in  quite 
a  wonderful  and  brain-enlivening  conversation. 
Somehow  Hart  began  to  pluck  up  courage. 
He  ventured  some  remark  about  the  music. 
It  was  accepted. 

Just  as  they  had  got  back  to  the  weather  again 


no  A  Princetonian. 

a  young  man  came  up  and  claimed  a  dance,  and 
Miss  Redmond  whisked  away. 

Hart  somehow  felt  amused.  In  fact  he  had 
learned  as  much  in  this  short  conversation  as 
he  might  have  derived  from  reading  a  book  on 
the  subject.  He  arose  and  joined  Heaphy. 
He  had  found  out  that  by  walking  slowly 
people  got  out  of  his  way. 

He  did  not  note  the  envious  look  in  Heaphy's 
eyes.  The  latter  took  him  by  the  arm.  His 
question  rang  in  such  accord  with  Hart's 
thoughts  that  he  was  forced  to  smile. 

"  What  did  you  talk  to  them  ?  Did  you  have 
to  pay  them  compliments  ?  "  asked  Heaphy. 

"  No,"  said  Hart,  "  just  let  them  begin  it  and 
agree  with  what  they  say." 

Again  Bliss  happened  to  go  by. 

"  The  next  is  your  dance  with  my  sister,"  he 
said,  tapping  Hart  on  the  shoulder.  "  She  is 
over  there  near  the  door." 

Hart  walked  in  Miss  Bliss's  direction.  As  he 
came  up  he  saw  that  Congreve  was  talking  to  her. 

"  Here  he  is  now,"  said  Congreve.  "  Oh, 
Pop  !  " 

Hart  had  become  quite  used  to  his  nick- 
name. 


The  Dance.  1 1 1 

"  I  was  reciting  Golatly's  poem  about  your 
struggle  with  Matt." 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  hero  you  are  made 
out  to  be,"  said  Miss  Bliss,  looking  up  at  Hart 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  I  don't  feel  like  one,"  Hart  answered 
awkwardly.  "  It 's  very  hot  this  evening." 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Miss  Bliss. 

"  Floor  is  very  good." 

Miss  Bliss  appeared  astonished.  Somehow 
the  smile  of  interest  was  fading  away. 

"  The  music  is  very  good  too." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Miss  Bliss. 

"  How  pretty  the  decorations  are." 

Why,  it  was  as  easy  as  swimming.  The  music 
struck  up,  and  Hart  after  three  or  four  collisions 
in  getting  started  managed  to  get  through  four 
or  five  turns  of  the  polka. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Miss  Bliss, 
as  they  swung  near  their  seat  again.  "  I 
promised  to  give  half  of  this  to  Mr.  Hollings- 
worth." 

She  left  Hart  with  a  little  smile,  and  Hol- 
lingsworth  guided  her  away  into  the  crowd. 

"  I  thought  you  said  he  was  a  character, — a 
hoosier,  you  called  him,"  said  Miss  Bliss. 


112  A  Princetonian. 

"  Well,  he  is,"  returned  Hollingsworth,  "  a 
regular  yap.  Does  n't  he  talk  like  it  ?  " 

"  No  such  luck,"  said  Miss  Bliss,  shortly.  "  He 
talks  like  the  rest  of  you,  and  is  just  as  unin- 
teresting." 

Hollingsworth  frowned,  and  the  rest  of  the 
dance  was  finished  in  silence. 

Meantime  Hart  had  begun  to  enjoy  himself, 
when  suddenly  a  qualm  struck  him  about  poor 
Heaphy.  Passing  Congreve,  Hart  stopped  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  introduce  Heaphy  to  some 
of  your  friends,"  he  said. 

"  Good  idea,"  said  Congreve,  "  I  '11  knock 
him  down  to  Daisy  Smith.  She  '11  play  tag 
with  him." 

But  Heaphy  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Only 
a  few  minutes  before  he  had  taken  his  things 
from  the  cloak-room  and  walked  away  from  the 
hall,  added  bitterness  eating  into  his  heart. 

Now  it  was  the  fourth  figure  and  Hart 
approached  Miss  Hollingsworth.  She  greeted 
him  with  a  smile. 

"  You  've  not  forgotten,"  she  said. 

The  crowd  about  her  made  a  little  way  for 
him.  She  took  his  arm  and  they  walked  off 
slowly. 


The  Dance.  1 1 3 

"It  is  very  warm,"  Hart  began. 

He  went  through  the  formula  that  he  im- 
agined so  successful  and  had  gotten  as  far  as 
the  condition  of  the  floor  when  Miss  Hollings- 
worth  interrupted  him. 

"  Now  go  on  and  speak  about  the  music  and 
the  decorations,"  she  said.  "  Heavens,  how  I 
enjoy  originality  !  " 

Poor  Hart  was  embarrassed  now  and  no 
mistake. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Miss  Hollingsworth, 
"  I  know  you  are  really  better  than  that.  Don't 
let 's  dance;  let 's  go  out  on  the  veranda." 

They  went  through  the  doorway  and  found 
seats  together  where  the  air  was  cool  and  fresh. 
Hart  had  not  spoken  and  now  could  imagine 
nothing  to  start  the  talk  with.  Suddenly  Miss 
Hollingsworth  began. 

"  Mr.  Bliss  told  me  something  about  you, 
Mr.  Hart,"  she  said.  "  Now,  I  should  say 
that  you  had  a  great  deal  before  you.  You 
see,  women  divide  men  into  two  classes  at 
first, — men  who  are  usual,  and  men  who  are 
different." 

"Do  you  mean  the  usual  are  indifferent ?" 
asked  Hart. 


H4  A  Princetonian. 

"Now,  that's  better,"  said  Miss  Rollings- 
worth.  "No,  I  don't.  This  is  what  I 
mean." 

And  then  she  went  on  to  explain.  Hart 
found  that  he  had  lost  all  his  embarrassment, 
and  to  his  strange  surprise  an  unusual  enjoy- 
ment came  to  him.  The  girls  he  had  met  at 
Oakland  had  never  talked  to  him  like  this. 
There  was  an  excitement  about  it. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  was  finding  a  great  deal 
out  about  her  new  acquaintance.  She  had 
been  given  by  nature  the  strange  gift  of  being 
able  to  draw  out  the  best  from  people, — to 
make  them  interested  and  interesting. 

Hart  was  telling  something  of  the  life  in 
a  new  town,  of  the  emigrant  farmers,  their 
ignorance  and  suffering.  From  that  he  had 
come  to  speak  of  his  early  youth. 

He  had  grown  away  from  any  awkwardness 
and  no  man  ever  forgets  a  conversation  of  this 
kind,  or  a  woman  who  has  once  eased  the 
awkwardness  of  new  surroundings. 

Suddenly  the  talk  was  interrupted  by  the 
tall  senior  who  had  first  spoken  of  the  two 
freshmen,  claiming  the  dance. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,    Mr.    Hart," 


The  Dance.  1 1 5 

said  Miss  Hollingsworth,  giving  her  hand  as 
she  went  away,  leaving  him  alone.  He  came 
back  into  the  room  for  a  minute,  but  had  lost 
all  interest  in  the  floor,  the  music,  and  the 
decorations. 

Despite  the  entreaties  of  Congreve  to  remain, 
he  got  his  hat  and  coat  (at  least  Franklin's 
coat)  and  strolled  over  to  the  latter's  room. 

It  was  quite  early  and  Buck  had  not  gone 
to  bed. 

"Well,"  he  asked,  "how  was  it?  A  suc- 
cess ?  " 

Hart  paused. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  it  was  and  it  was  n't." 

"  You  are  non-committal,"  yawned  Franklin. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Hart,  thoughtfully.  "  Do 
you  know  that  there  's  a  lot  to  learn  that 's 
never  been  put  in  books." 

"  That 's  just  life,"  returned  Franklin. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  BLUE  DEVILS. 

"POP,  old  boy,"  said  L.  Putney  Betts, 
"  you  Ve  got  something  on  your  mind.  Your 
presence  exudes  a  blue  haze  suggestive  of  re- 
morse or  a  dread  of  impending  trouble.  Cheer 
up  !  Care  kills  cats,  you  know." 

Hart  was  sitting  in  the  window  with  his  feet 
up  on  the  cushion,  looking  out  at  Nassau  Street. 
Three  or  four  chilly  nights  had  scattered  the 
leaves  from  the  trees  and  they  littered  the  walks 
and  roadways.  It  was  now  late  in  October. 

The  Westerner's  appearance  had  changed  not 
a  little  in  the  past  two  months.  He  looked 
somewhat  younger  than  he  did  when  he  had 
climbed  up  the  stone  steps  from  the  station, 
the  day  of  his  first  encounter  with  the  sopho- 
mores. His  face  had  become  thinner,  but  it 
glowed  with  health.  His  coat  was  open  and 
a  big  orange  P  flared  on  the  breast  of  a  new 
sweater.  His  only  reply  to  Betts's  remark  was 
116 


The  Blue  Devils.  117 

a  half  smile  and  a  straightening  back  of  his 
shoulders. 

"  If  I  did  n't  know  they  fed  you  well  at  the 
training-table,"  put  in  Terence  Golatly,  slap- 
ping the  soles  of  Hart's  feet  with  the  handle 
of  a  tennis  racket,  "  I  should  say  that  you  had 
the  same  thing  that  was  the  matter  with  the 
little  bird  who  sang  '  Tit  Willow,  Tit  Willow, 
Tit  Willow,' — love,  or-er-indigestion." 

"  He  's  ashamed  of  the  way  he  treated  that 
big  right  guard  from  Lafayette  yesterday,"  said 
Simeon  Tolker  Congreve.  "  You  were  awfully 
rude,  Pop,  and  if  I  were  you  I  should  write  a 
letter  of  apology." 

Again  Hart  smiled.  The  day  before  he  had 
played  his  first  game  on  the  'Varsity  eleven 
(although  he  had  been  riding  in  "that  she- 
bang "  for  the  past  week)  and,  making  use  of 
a  college  expression,  in  the  game  referred  to, 
the  big  freshman  had  "  everlastingly  torn  his 
shirt," — which  means  that  he  had  accomplished 
everything  expected  of  him  and  a  little  bit 
more  ;  but  there  was  something  on  his  mind 
and  this  was  a  fact.  It  was  nothing  very  tan- 
gible as  yet,  and  certainly  nothing  that  he 
could  talk  about,  being  merely  this  : 


1 1 8  A  Princetonian. 

He  had  carried  a  letter  from  Mabel  unopened 
in  his  pocket  for  half  a  day,  and  he  really  found 
it  growing  difficult  for  him  to  write.  He  no 
longer  felt  thrilled  by  the  mental  picture  he 
drew  of  her,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  rick- 
ety old  stairs  that  led  from  the  store  to  the 
second  story  of  the  frame  house  in  Oakland, 
and  even  her  photograph  (with  her  hair  beau- 
tifully frizzed  with  a  hot  iron),  that  he  had  on 
the  mantelpiece  of  his  room  in  Edwards,  failed 
to  stir  him.  She  was  very  different  from — from 
some  one  else,  the  tones  of  whose  voice  would 
not  leave  his  mind,  and  yet  who  was  as  far 
above  him  as  the  stars  above  the  earth — the 
way  he  looked  at  it. 

All  this  made  him  very  unhappy,  and  made 
him  think  that  he  was  somehow  a  very  mean 
individual,  and  resulted  in  his  studying  harder 
and  playing  football  with  a  grim,  cool  deter- 
mination in  which,  perchance,  he  found  some 
relief. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  had  been  present  at  the 
game  with  Lafayette  the  day  before,  and  upon 
one  occasion,  when  he  had  dashed  through  the 
crowd  and  fallen  on  the  ball  outside  the  bound- 
ary, he  had  looked  up  and  caught  her  eye  as 


The  Blue  Devils.  1 1 9 

she  was  watching  him  eagerly  from  the  front 
seat  of  an  open  carriage.  Despite  himself,  his 
heart  had  given  an  almost  sickening  leap,  and 
he  had  gone  back  and  thrown  the  Lafayette 
guard  so  heavily,  in  breaking  through  the  line, 
that  the  man  from  Pennsylvania  said  after- 
wards that  he  "  thought  he  had  been  hit  by 
freight." 

Hart  had  carefully  avoided  meeting  Miss 
Hollingsworth,  although  Bliss,  on  congratu- 
lating him  when  the  struggle  was  over,  had 
said:  "I  say,  the  girls  are  over  there.  Why 
don't  you  trot  across  and  see  them — never  mind 
the  dirt." 

Hart,  however,  had  hidden  himself  in  the 
dressing-room  and  wished  to  be  alone.  That 
night,  however,  he  had  dreamt  that  Miss  Hol- 
lingsworth had  told  him  she  was  proud  of  him, 
whereat  he  had  blushed  in  his  sleep.  So  all 
this  may  account  for  his  exuding  a  blue  haze, 
and  being  in  a  "  Tit  Willow  "  frame  of  mind. 

The  bell  in  old  North  had  commenced 
ding-donging,  and  Putney  Betts  and  Golatly 
asked  each  other  "  What  the  dickens  was  the 
next  recitation  ?  "  Hart  knew,  of  course,  and 
pulled  a  well  thumbed  note-book  from  his 


I2O  A  Princetonian. 

pocket.  Then  the  freshmen  hurried  down 
the  street  and  crossed  the  campus  to  attend 
Livy  Wescott's  Latin.  If  there  was  one  thing 
that  Hart  was  disturbed  about  in  his  mind, 
there  was  another  upon  which  he  had  reached 
a  satisfactory  conclusion.  It  was  that  he  had 
completely  changed  his  mind  about  college, 
and  that  if  he  had  only  nothing  to  worry 
over,  he  could  live  from  day  to  day  as  happy 
a  man  as  ever  breathed. 

So  the  time  went  on.  The  first  of  Novem- 
ber came.  It  was  growing  too  chilly  for  lolling 
out  on  the  grass  without  a  dread  of  pneu- 
monia, and  the  day  of  the  first  big  game  with 
Harvard  was  fast  approaching.  The  usual  big 
scores  had  been  rolled  up  against  the  smaller 
colleges  in  the  practice  games  without  much 
effort,  although  there  had  been  quite  a  tussle 
with  Pennsylvania,  where  it  was  rumored  they 
were  catching  on  to  the  tricks  of  the  trade — a 
renegade  "  Eli  "  had  them  in  hand. 

Of  late  Hart  had  not  seen  very  much  of 
Patrick  Corse  Heaphy,  but  the  latter  joined 
him  on  the  way  across  the  campus  and  falter- 
ingly  asked  him  if  he  would  not  come  over  to 
his  room.  There  was  something  he  wished  to 


The  Blue  Devils.  121 

talk  about,  Heaphy  said,  and  he  could  not  say 
it  where  they  might  be  interrupted.  Hart  was 
not  prepared  for  the  surprise  that  followed. 
He  had  supposed  that  Heaphy,  who  belonged 
to  a  small  coterie  that  exchanged  note-books, 
wished  to  talk  to  him  upon  some  such  matters. 
But  when  he  had  reached  the  bare  little  room, 
the  "  young  man  with  a  purpose  "  had  locked 
the  door  carefully.  He  appeared  fidgety  and 
nervous. 

"  Now  don't  mind  what  I  am  going  to  say," 
he  began,  first  picking  up  one  book  and  then 
another  from  the  table  under  the  drop-light, 
"  but  you  're  in  trouble.  There  's  something 
worriting  you  (Heaphy  had  inherited  the  word 
from  his  father).  I  've  seen  your  face  in  recita- 
tion. Do  you  think  playing  football  is  inter- 
fering with  your  studies  ?  " 

Hart  was  shuffling  uneasily. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  said  ;  "  I  would  n't  let  either 
of  them  interfere  with  the  other." 

"  Then,"  said  Heaphy,  with  his  face  light- 
ing up,  "  I  know  what  it  is.  You  see,  you  see, 
— it  costs  money  to  go  to  college,  and  some- 
times it  is  n't  aisy  to  get  it." 

Hart  was  now  regarding  him  quietly  and  had 


122  A  Princetonian. 

stopped  twirling  the  bunch  of  keys  about  his 
forefinger. 

"  Now,  I  know  a  man,"  said  Heaphy,  "  who  's 
got  some  money  to  spare,  and  if  you  're  hard 
up,  I  could  get  some  for  you.  He  don't  want 
any  interest,"  he  went  on  eagerly,  "  and  you 
can  pay  him  back  after  you  get  through  college. 
He  's  helped  me."  And  Heaphy  at  this  turned 
as  red  in  the  face  as  his  carrotty  crop  of  stiff 
bristles, — "  and  I  'm  not  going  to  worry  over 
it ;  some  day,  perhaps,  I  '11  tell  you  more  about 
the  matter,  but  I  don't  want  to  just  now,  for 
reasons." 

Hart  was  touched.  Heaphy 's  shorter  nick- 
name was  "  Irish,"  but  Hart  had  a  tendency 
(that  he  was  nearly  overcoming)  to  call  almost 
everybody  "  Mr."  But  as  he  had  found  that 
this  prevented  close  relationship,  he  was  grow- 
ing out  of  it.  On  this  occasion  his  reply  was 
so  polite  that  only  its  heartiness  prevented  it 
from  being  distant. 

"  Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Mr.  Heaphy," 
he  said,  "  but  it  is  n't  that.  I  have  enough  to 
carry  me  through  the  term,  I  guess.  But — " 
he  paused.  "  I  'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to 
you,  and  if  I  'm  ever  in  trouble  that  way  I 


The  Blue  Devils.  123 

shall  tell  you,  bet  on  that.  Perhaps  I  Ve  been 
training  too  hard.  Mr.  Robinson  says  I  look  a 
trifle  stale." 

Heaphy,  replying  to  the  thanks  and  not  to 
the  last  remark,  murmured,  "  Don't  mention 
it."  Then  he  opened  the  door  and  ushered  his 
guest  out  into  the  hallway  with  an  awkward 
bow.  When  he  returned  to  his  room,  the  latter 
found  Ned  Bliss  waiting  for  him. 

"  I  say,  come  home  with  me  and  spend 
Sunday,"  said  Ned,  twirling  a  button  on  his 
friend's  jacket.  "  On  the  level,  it  '11  do  you 
lots  of  good." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  DIFFERENCE    OF  OPINION. 

AT  first  Hart  refused  the  invitation,  but  Bliss 
was  so  bent  on  having  him  come  that  in  the  end 
he  accepted.  Elliott  and  Franklin  both  urged 
his  going  when  he  spoke  to  them  about  it. 

So  after  the  last  recitation  on  Saturday 
morning,  Bliss  and  Pop  Hart  hurried  to  the 
station.  As  they  passed  by  East  College  there 
were  two  big  figures  standing  at  the  corner,  and 
one  of  them,  a  heavy  mustached  man  with  the 
stamp  of  Great  Britain  upon  him,  turned  and 
spoke  as  if  he  felt  it  incumbent  upon  himself 
to  say  something. 

"  Now  don't  heat  any  sweets  and  be  back  in 
time  for  an  'ard  practice  on  Monday." 

Hart  grinned. 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Robinson,"  he  said,  and 
Bliss  put  in  : 

124 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.  1 25 

"  I  '11  take  good  care  of  him,  Jim,  and  send 
him  to  bed  early." 

The  trainer  turned  and  spoke  to  the  burly 
figure  at  his  side. 

"  He  's  goin'  to  make  a  good  'un  some  day, 
when  I  get  through  with  him." 

Matthew  Goldie,  the  proctor,  shrugged  his 
heavy  shoulders. 

"  I  thought  he  was  a  pretty  good  'un  when 
he  got  hold  of  me,"  he  grunted. 

The  story  of  the  struggle  in  L.  Putney  Betts's 
room  was  abroad,  even  if  it  had  not  been  dis- 
cussed at  a  faculty  meeting — officially. 

Ned  Bliss  lived  in  Orange,  his  father  being 
a  well-to-do  business  man  who  had  travelled 
untold  thousands  of  miles  in  the  aggregate  be- 
tween New  York  and  the  New  Jersey  suburb 
and  had  never  missed  a  train. 

"  It 's  Saturday  and  we  may  meet  the  gov- 
ernor at  the  station,"  said  Ned,  as  he  and  Hart 
settled  themselves  in  their  seat,  "and  that 
means  that  there  '11  be  a  family  driving  party. 
— Care  much  for  driving  ?  " 

"  I  've  never  done  much  of  it  for  pleasure," 
Hart  responded,  "  but  I  like  a  good  horse. — 
Does  your  father  raise  them  ?  " 


1 26  A  F*rincetonian. 

"Not  exactly,"  Bliss  answered;  "he  just 
keeps  them, — keeps  them  longer  than  anybody 
else  would,  most  likely." 

To  show  that  the  junior  and  the  president 
of  the  freshman  class  were  on  very  good  terms, 
it  is  only  necessary  to  state  that  most  of  the 
trip  between  the  junction  and  Newark  was 
made  in  silence,  Bliss  reading  a  novel,  and  Hart 
occupied  by  looking  over  his  notes  on  English 
and  gazing  thoughtfully  out  of  the  window. 

When  they  arrived  at  their  destination,  which 
was  one  of  the  many  Orange  stations — which 
one  it  does  n't  much  matter, —  Hart  found  him- 
self wishing  that  he  had  not  come ;  not  that  he 
was  shy,  but  knowing  that  Miss  Bliss  was  a 
friend  of  Miss  Hollingsworth,  he  positively  be- 
gan to  fear  that  he  might  have  to  meet  the 
latter,  and  this  made  him  nervous.  At  last  he 
plucked  up  courage  enough  to  ask  a  question  : 

"  Will  Miss  Hollingsworth  be  at  your 
house?"  he  inquired. 

"  Don't  know, — maybe,"  Bliss  returned  care- 
lessly. "  She  and  my  sister  are  very  thick.  I 
think  Miss  H.  is  a  corker, — don't  you  ?  " 

As  this  adjective  did  not  exactly  describe 
the  young  lady  to  Hart's  mind,  he  did  not  an- 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.          1 2  7 

swer,  and  soon  the  train  pulled  up  at  the  plat- 
form. A  short,  thick-set  man,  with  iron-gray 
whiskers,  and  bright  sparkling  eyes  behind  gold- 
rimmed  eye-glasses,  greeted  the  young  men  as 
they  stepped  from  the  train. 

"Ah,  Neddy,  my  boy;  glad  to  see  you. 
And,  Mr.  Hart,  how  d'  ye  do  ?  Heard  my 
daughter  speak  of  you.  We  Ve  got  the  horses 
here, — what  do  you  say  for  a  drive  ?  Mary 
is  over  there  waiting." 

He  nodded  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
street,  where  an  un-English-looking  coachman 
in  a  derby  hat  was  driving  a  pair  of  healthy, 
long-tailed  horses  leisurely  up  and  down.  In 
the  back  seat  sat  Miss  Bliss.  She  waved  her 
hand,  and  the  carriage  was  drawn  up  close  to 
the  snorting  engine  that  the  horses  regarded 
in  a  very  friendly  fashion.  The  coachman, 
who  answered  familiarly  to  the  name  of 
"  Tom,"  was  left  in  charge  of  the  luggage. 

Ned  took  the  front  seat  beside  his  father, 
and  Hart  sat  down  beside  Miss  Bliss.  Her 
very  first  words  caused  him  a  mingled  feeling 
of  relief  and  disappointment. 

"  I  had  hoped  that  Madge  Hollingsworth 
was  going  to  be  with  us,"  she  said,  extending  a 


128  A  Princetonian. 

little  gloved  hand,  "  but  at  the  last  moment  she 
said  she  could  n't  come.  But  she  's  here  in 
town  with  the  Blakes  however.  Are  n't  you 
disappointed  ?  " 

Hart  mumbled  something. 

"  Oh,  anybody  would  be,"  replied  Miss  Bliss, 
as  if  she  caught  his  meaning.  "  She  's  just  im- 
mense, is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  She  's  a  very  nice  young  lady,"  returned 
Mr.  Hart,  "  and  very  pretty." 

Then  Miss  Bliss  began  to  cross-question  him 
anent  the  football  team. 

They  took  quite  a  long  drive  and  Mr.  Bliss's 
chief  pleasure  seemed  to  be  in  turning  around 
and  saying  over  his  shoulder  : 

"  That's  where  Mr.  So-and-so  lives.  This  is 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Somebody-else," — to  all  of 
which  Hart  responded,  although  why  it  should 
be  of  great  interest  to  the  old  gentleman,  he 
could  not  see. 

When  they  returned  to  the  Blisses'  house, 
which  was  a  very  neat  wooden  dwelling,  with  a 
slate  mansard  roof,  Hart  was  shown  to  a  little 
back  room  all  blue  chintz  and  white  furniture.. 
The  surroundings  were  very  odd,  but  it  gave 
him  an  indescribable  pleasure.  To  his  surprise 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.          1 29 

he  found  his  bag — at  least  Congreve's  bag, 
he  had  borrowed  it  for  the  occasion —  had  been 
unpacked,  and  Franklin's  dress-suit  was  laid  out 
on  the  bed. 

Before  he  began  to  dress  Hart  looked  out  of 
the  window.  Tom,  the  coachman,  was  rubbing 
down  one  of  the  contented-looking  horses  in 
front  of  a  diminutive  stable  at  the  end  of  the 
neat  driveway. 

Hart  sat  for  some  time  watching  him.  He 
was  not  filled  with  envy  at  all  this  luxury,  yet 
he  thought  how  fine  a  thing  it  must  be  to  be 
rich — for  he  imagined  that  Mr.  Bliss  must  be  a 
nabob  and  nothing  else,  to  possess  all  these 
comforts.  How  different  it  was  from  Oakland. 
What  a  strange  break  had  been  made  in  his  life  ! 
— and  yet  suddenly  he  checked  himself.  Was 
not  this  sort  of  thing  going  to  make  him  dis- 
contented and  unhappy  ?  Could  he  ever  go 
back  to  the  smell  of  ham  and  nails,  or  to 
sitting  again  in  his  shirt  sleeves  in  the  front 
room  over  the  store,  where  he  could  imagine 
Mabel  pouring  over  the  pages  of  The  Ladys 
Journal,  her  hair  neatly  frizzed,  and,  alas  and 
alas  !  her  pretty  jaws  working  contentedly  and 
thoughtfully  on  a  bit  of  fragrant  chewing  gum  ? 


130  A  Princetonian. 

Somehow  this  picture  gave  him  a  shock. 
Would  it  not  have  been  better  if  he  had  never 
come,  or  would  it  not  be  best  for  him  to  return 
before  further  discouragements  and  the  attend- 
ant heartaches  would  grow  upon  him  ? 

All  these  complex  feelings  Hart  charged  up 
to  his  own  account — as  if  they  arose  entirely 
through  some  fault  of  his  own,  and  as  if  they 
should  not  be  harbored  or  dwelt  upon. 

With  a  sigh  he  arose  at  last  and  dressed  him- 
self and  went  down  stairs.  No  one  else  had  ap- 
peared and  he  entered  the  drawing-room  alone. 

But  no  sooner  had  he  sat  down  in  a  chair  to 
wait  than  he  jumped  to  his  feet — there  was  a 
picture  of  Madge  Hollingsworth  smiling  at  him 
from  a  silver  frame  on  the  mantelpiece.  He 
picked  it  up  and  looked  at  it.  A  half-frightened 
sensation  went  over  him.  For  an  instant  he 
wished  that  he  were  going  to  see  her,  and  then 
a  moment  later  he  felt  relieved  because  he  was 
not.  Hearing  some  one  come  down  the  stairs, 
he  seated  himself  in  a  chair  again,  as  Mrs. 
Bliss  entered.  The  little  lady  was  very  curious 
concerning  her  guest,  and  this  was  the  first 
opportunity  that  she  had  had  for  asking  ques- 
tions. 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.          131 

"  Do  you  intend  to  go  out  West  again,  Mr. 
Hart?  "  she  began, — "  after  your  graduation,  I 
mean,  of  course." 

"  I  've  been  thinking  that  I  would  never  be 
graduated  at  all,"  was  the  return. 

"  Goodness  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bliss,  rais- 
ing her  eyebrows,  "  why  this  determination  ?  " 

Hart  paused  before  replying. 

"I  Ve  been  going  over  it  all,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  and  I  think  I  may  be  happier  if  I  go  back 
right  away." 

"  You  must  have  some  strong  reason,"  Mrs. 
Bliss  suggested,  becoming  intensely  interested. 

"Yes,  perhaps  I  have.  I  don't  mean  'per- 
haps'— I  have  a  strong  reason." 

For  an  instant  Hart  was  tempted  to  unbosom 
himself,  and  tell  all  about  Mabel,  but  he  was 
deterred  from  this  by  the  entrance  of  the  rest 
of  the  family,  and  they  went  in  to  dinner. 

The  glimpse  of  the  delightful  home  surround- 
ings and  the  affection  that  the  Bliss  family  had 
for  one  another  was  comforting  to  Hart,  and 
the  way  they  received  him  into  their  circle  put 
him  at  his  ease.  The  conversation  at  dessert 
took  a  turn,  however,  that  threw  him  into  a  pe- 
culiar mood.  They  were  talking  of  some  mem- 


132  A  Princetonian. 

her  of  the  junior  class,  who  was  known  to  all  of 
them,  and  Mrs.  Bliss  made  this  observation, — 
"  I  don't  think  it  pays,"  she  said,  "  for  an  en- 
gaged man  to  come  to  college." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Miss  Bliss,  eagerly,  for 
speeches  of  this  kind  interest  young  girls  espec- 
ially. 

"  Mother  is  right,"  put  in  Ned,  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  table.  "  An  engagement  is  a  sort 
of  a  millstone, — a  dead-weight  for  a  man  to 
carry  for  four  years." 

"  Oh,  how  wise  we  are  becoming !  "  smiled  his 
sister. 

"  Well,  take  Clarkson,  for  example,"  Ned 
went  on,  "  He  '11  never  be  happy  with  his 
wife, — that  is,  if  he  ever  marries  her.  I  met 
her  once, — a  silly  toy  of  a  girl,  and  upon  my 
word  I  could  not  help  feeling  as  if  Clarky  had 
outgrown  her,  so  to  speak." 

"  A  man  never  knows  his  own  mind  until  he  's 
thirty,"  remarked  Mr.  Bliss,  thoughtfully. 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  is  rather  hard  on  the 
girl  ? "  said  Miss  Bliss.  Then  she  turned  to 
Hart, — "  Don't  you  agree  with  me  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  It  is  hard  on  the  girl." 

Hart  winced. 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.          133 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be,"  he  replied. 
And  then  he  fell  to  thinking. 

Would  his  engagement  to  Mabel,  that  he  felt 
in  honor  bound  to  fulfil,  ever  become  a  mill- 
stone, a  dead-weight,  for  him  to  carry  !  The 
thought  of  it  made  him  shudder,  and  then  and 
there  he  came  to  a  decision,  and  the  right  way 
out  of  it  all,  and  the  only  way,  he  saw  plainly. 
He  should  leave  college  and  go  back  to  Oak- 
land, marry,  and  take  up  his  life  as  it  had 
begun.  He  was  very  silent  all  the  rest  of  the 
evening. 

Ned  and  his  sister  sang  duets,  while  he  lis- 
tened, and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  played  dummy 
whist  in  the  corner,  until  good-night  time  came. 

During  the  morning  hours  Hart  tossed  un- 
easily, but  his  frame  of  mind  did  not  alter. 
The  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  his  appearance 
caused  Mrs.  Bliss  some  uneasiness. 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  Ve  been  training  too  hard, 
Mr.  Hart,"  she  observed.  "All  that  doesn't 
pay." 

Ned  tried  to  nudge  his  mother,  but  Hart 
replied  : 

"  Perhaps  I  have,  ma'am.  Mr.  Robinson  said 
that  I  had  grown  a  trifle  stale." 


134  -A  Princetonian. 

At  this  Mrs.  Bliss  recommended  a  tonic,  which 
had  done  her  worlds  of  good  when  she  "  felt 
that  way  "  herself,  whereat  everyone  laughed. 

As  it  was  Sunday  they  went  to  church. 
No  sooner  had  they  entered  the  pew,  than  Miss 
Bliss  leaned  over  and  spoke  to  her  brother. 

"  Why,  there  's  Madge,"  she  said. 

Hart  started.  Three  seats  in  front  of  him 
he  recognized  Miss  Hollingsworth.  He  could 
see  nothing  but  the  back  of  her  head,  and  occa- 
sionally the  side  of  her  face,  as  she  turned  a 
little,  but  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  off  her. 
Oh,  the  wild  thoughts  and  fancies  that  filled 
his  mind  !  He  almost  wished  something 
would  happen, — the  roof  fall  in,  a  fire  break 
out,  in  order  that  he  might  do  something  for 
her,  save  her  if  possible  from  some  danger ! 
From  all  this,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  Hart 
was  given  to  imagining  at  times. 

As  they  went  out  of  church,  he  did  not  have 
a  chance  to  speak  to  the  tall  beauty,  although 
he  received  a  kindly  nod  and  smile  of  recogni- 
tion. But  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  house  he 
inquired  if  there  was  not  an  afternoon  train  by 
which  he  could  return  to  Princeton,  and  pleaded 
some  excuse  to  account  for  his  hurry. 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.          135 

Bliss,  seeing  he  was  so  earnest,  got  out  a 
time-table  and  agreed  to  go  back  with  him. 

After  the  good-byes,  when  they  were  once  on 
the  train,  Hart  turned  and  laid  a  hand  on  his 
friend's  knee. 

"  See  here,"  he  observed  earnestly,  "  I  've 
been  going  over  everything,  and  have  concluded 
to  go  back  West  [he  did  not  say  '  home '  ] 
next  week." 

To  his  surprise,  Bliss's  answer  was  a  burst  of 
angry  remonstrance. 

"  You  can  't  do  it,"  he  said,  "  and  leave  us  in 
the  lurch  that  way  !  There  's  no  one  to  play 
right  guard,  you  know  it  well !  and  the  college 
would  n't  stand  it.  If  you  're  going  to  be  an 
idiot,  and  prove  yourself  a  non-compos  by 
destroying  your  life,  wait  until  after  the  Yale 
game  anyhow." 

He  opened  his  novel,  then  flung  it  at  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front  of  him  and  glared  at 
his  companion  in  silence.  Hart  gazed  out  of 
the  window. 

"All  right,"  he  said;  "  I  '11  stay  until  after 
the  Yale  game." 

This  was  somewhat  appeasing,  and  Bliss's 
frown  relaxed. 


136  A  Princetonian. 

.  "  You  're  nutty  on  something.  What 's  eat- 
ing you  anyhow  ?  "  he  asked  inelegantly. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  Hart,  who  felt  his 
anger  rising.  "  I  Ve  just  been  thinking  things 
over,  I  tell  you." 

Bliss  picked  up  his  book  again  and  made 
himself  comfortable. 

"  Too  bad  about  Clarkson  !  "  he  said  with  a 
sigh.  "  Oh,  I  forgot  that  you  did  n't  know  him." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it 's  any  one  else's  business," 
muttered  Hart. 

The  young  men  did  not  indulge  in  much 
conversation  during  the  rest  of  the  trip.  A 
constrained  feeling  had  grown  up  between 
them.  They  parted  at  the  steps  leading  up  to 
campus,  but  before  they  had  done  so,  they 
shook  hands  and  Hart  thanked  Bliss  for  the 
pleasure  he  had  had,  at  which  Ned  poked  him 
on  the  shoulder,  and  said  laughingly  : 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  you  must  come  again,  good-bye, 
old  boy !  " 

But  on  the  way  up  to  his  room  Ned  ran 
across  Buck  Franklin. 

"  I  know  what 's  the  matter  with  Pop  Hart," 
he  said,  speaking  confidentially.  "  He 's  not 
stale  at  all ;  he  's  just  got  a  girl  on  his  mind." 


A  Difference  of  Opinion.  1 3  7 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  returned  Franklin.  "  That 's  the 
row,  is  it  ?  Now  it 's  as  clear  as  mud." 

In  the  Monday  practice  game,  Hart  did 
wonderful  things.  The  two  scrubbies  that 
were  placed  opposite  to  him  found  him  all 
shoulder  and  elbow  and  he  stopped  four  of  the 
full-back's  kicks  and  made  three  touch-downs. 
His  class  had  learned  to  cheer  by  this  time  and 
they  kept  up  a  prideful  howling  in  which  even 
the  sophomores  joined.  Trainer  Jim  Robinson 
observed : 

"  I  knew  wot  was  the  matter  with  'm.  'E 
just  needed  a  Sunday  off ;  " — which  shows  all 
Mr.  Robinson  knew  about  the  matter. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    MAN   IN  THE   'VARSITY    SWEATER. 

THERE  was  no  cane-spree  this  October  at 
Princeton,  for  the  reason  that  the  sophomores 
decided  at  a  class  meeting  to  frown  upon  it ; 
this  determination  being  arrived  at  really  be- 
cause they  had  no  man  to  put  in  against  the 
freshman  heavy-weight,  who,  despite  his  play- 
ing on  the  Eleven,  had  expressed  his  determina- 
tion to  go  in  for  it. 

But  Hart  was  growing  very  moody  and  L. 
Putney  Betts,  Congreve,  and  Golatly  did  their 
best  to  draw  him  out  of  himself,  but  he  kept 
away  from  them. 

"  It 's  the  big  game  that 's  on  his  mind," 
observed  Congreve  one  afternoon.  "  Wait  till 
he  breaks  training  and  we  '11  teach  him  some 
of  the  pleasures  of  existence — oh !  beer,  beer, 
glorious  beer !  " 

"  Let  's   go   over   to   his   room    and   razzle- 
dazzle  him  now,"  said  Golatly. 
138 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.    1 39 

They  all  three  crossed  the  campus  and  made 
their  way  towards  Edwards.  They  pounded 
on  Hart's  door  and  were  admitted,  but  they 
did  not  stay  long,  and  the  razzle-dazzle  was 
not  a  success. 

Upon  their  entrance,  Hart  had  slipped  a  letter 
he  was  writing  under  the  blotting  pad.  It  was 
one  addressed  to  Mabel  Van  Clees,  telling  her 
that  he  would  be  in  Oakland  on  the  first  of 
December  and  that  he  hoped  they  could  be 
married  before  Christmas. 

Days  flew  by,  and  Princeton  won  the  Har- 
vard game — score  something  big — and  bonfires 
blazed.  But  the  great  event  was  yet  to  come — 
"Yale  !  Yale  !  "  was  the  talk  on  the  campus. 

One  day  the  college  waked  up  in  a  peculiar 
manner.  Very  early  in  the  morning  some  one 
had  thrust  his  head  out  of  a  window,  and  it  only 
needed  a  glance  to  show  that  the  weather  was 
fine — crisp  and  cool,  cheerful  and  bright,  and 
not  a  cloud  in  the  sky  ! 

The  early  riser  was  Tommy  Wilson,  and  after 
squinting  about  he  proceeded  to  do  a  very  curi- 
ous thing.  He  skipped  over  to  the  corner  of  his 
room  and  picked  up  a  shot-gun,  which  he  care- 
fully loaded  ;  then  he  went  into  the  little  room 


140  A  Princetonian. 

in  which  his  room-mate,  Manager  Bishop,  slept, 
and  he  awakened  the  latter  by  tweaking  both 
of  his  great  toes : 

"  Resurrect,  ye  sleeper !  "  he  cried.  "  Resur- 
rect !  The  great  day  is  here  !  Come  forth ! 
Break  out !  " 

Bishop  aimed  a  kick  at  Tommy's  chest  and 
threw  off  the  bedclothes,  but  by  this  time 
Tommy  had  reached  the  window. 

"  Bang  !  Bang  !  "  went  the  shot-gun,  and 
then  the  two  inhabitants  of  the  corner  room 
in  West-middle  Witherspoon  began  to  shout : 

"  Heads  out  !  Heads  out !  Waow  !  Ya  yi 
yi  yi  Waouw  !  " 

The  booming  of  a  great  tin  horn  answered 
from  the  direction  of  Edwards,  and  then  six 
quick  pops  from  a  revolver  spurted  out  of  a  win- 
dow over  the  early  risers'  heads.  Another  horn 
took  up  the  tooting.  A  bunch  of  fire-crackers 
began  crackling  in  another  direction,  and  then 
a  screaming  and  roaring  and  rippling  of  sound 
arose  from  all  over  the  campus. 

The  college  had  not  gone  crazy  as  might,  at 
first,  have  appeared  ;  nor  was  it  a  prearranged 
Jmeute,  or  an  open  rebellion.  It  was  merely 
the  greeting  accorded  to  the  Yale  Game  Day, 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.   141 

and  the  undergraduate  pulse  was  high  and 
feverish.  Steam  was  at  top  pressure  ;  and  this 
was  a  preliminary  blow-off,  as  it  were,  for  the 
sake  of  health.  No  one  is  late  for  breakfast 
on  this  morning,  be  it  put  on  record. 

At  the  same  early  hour  Newton  Wilberforce 
Hart  awoke  in  a  room  in  a  hotel  on  Fifth  Ave- 
nue. He  looked  across  at  the  other  bed  and 
saw  that  Minton,  the  half-back,  was  fast  asleep, 
doubled  up  like  a  ball.  Hart  went  to  the  win- 
dow. He  had  never  been  in  the  city  until  the 
day  before,  when  the  team  had  arrived  and 
driven  straight  to  the  hotel.  The  avenue  was 
quiet,  but  at  a  window  across  the  way  a  little 
orange-and-black  flag  floated,  and  farther  down 
Hart  could  make  out  a  great  blue  banner  with 
a  huge  Y  upon  it,  stretching  from  one  window 
to  another. 

Minton  had  heard  him  stirring  and  stretched 
himself  sleepily. 

"  Good  weather,  eh  ?"  he  grunted.  "What 
time  is  it? " 

"  Five  o'clock,"  returned  Hart,  pulling  a 
watch  out  of  a  pocket. 

"  Skivings  !  Is  that  so  ?  I  'm  going  to  sleep 
again."  Minton  turned  over  on  his  side  and 


142  A  Princetonian. 

began  to  snore ;  but  Hart  sat  down  in  a  chair 
by  the  window.  He  marvelled  at  and  envied 
the  half-back's  capacity  for  repose.  So  far  as 
his  own  sensations  went,  he  was  never  so  wide 
awake  in  all  his  life.  It  was  the  veteran  and 
the  novice  over  again.  But  the  difference  in 
temperament  might  be  taken  into  account  also 
— Minton  always  paled  when  confronted  with 
excitement,  while  Hart  flushed,  although  he 
never  lost  his  head. 

Just  at  this  present  moment  Hart  felt  as 
though  he  had  swallowed  a  trip-hammer.  He 
looked  at  the  soiled  canvas  suit  spread  out  on 
a  chair,  and  the  striped  stockings,  and  would 
have  given  the  world  to  have  put  them  on  and 
gone  out  to  do  battle  on  the  instant — he  hated 
suspense.  Suddenly  there  was  a  knock  on  the 
door  and  Franklin,  fully  dressed,  came  in. 

"  Look  at  that  cold-blooded  fish,"  the  senior 
chuckled,  pointing  at  Minton.  "  And  say,  Pop, 
how  do  you  feel,  old  man,  how  's  the  ankle  ?  " 
he  asked,  slapping  Hart  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Out  of  sight,"  Hart  returned.  "  How  's 
your  knee  ?  " 

"  First-rate,"  answered  Franklin.  "  Let  's 
go  out  and  take  a  stroll  before  grub." 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.   \  43 

"  Come  ahead." 

"  Do  you  know  it 's  a  strange  thing,"  re- 
marked Franklin,  as  they  went  out  upon  the 
sidewalk,  "  I  never  get  this  way  before  a  Har- 
vard game.  It  only  strikes  me  when  we  meet 
the  man  with  a  Y  on  his  shirt.  I  'd  give  a 
dollar  to  know  if  he  feels  the  same  way  about 
us." 

Already  a  few  coaches,  decorated  in  blue  or 
the  colors  of  old  Nassau,  were  rumbling  down 
the  avenue  to  pick  up  their  patrons.  The  break- 
fast hour  passed  and  the  food  was  swallowed 
somehow. 

"  I  wish  to  thunder,"  Elliott,  the  football 
captain,  observed,  "  that  Jim  would  crack  a 
smile.  He  's  as  glum  as  a  hospital  nurse." 

"  You  never  mind  me,"  returned  the  trainer, 
who  had  been  carrying  around  a  couple  of  spare 
footballs  all  the  morning,  as  if  afraid  some  one 
would  steal  them.  "  You  just  play  your  'ardest, 
that 's  hall  I  hask  of  you." 

The  morning  passed  so  quickly  that  it  hardly 
seemed  an  hour  from  the  time  of  rising  before 
the  team  climbed  on  the  coach  and  started 
up-town  for  the  battle  ground  ;  all  the  town 
seemed  bound  there  also.  The  streets  echoed 


144  A  Princetonian. 

with  cheers,  horns,  and  howling,  and  many  a 
clerk  from  the  drygoods  district  imagined  him- 
self for  the  nonce  a  college  man,  and  claimed 
what  he  apparently  thought  were  all  the  privi- 
leges ;  which  resulted  in  many  instances — sad 
to  tell — in  his  supposed  alma  mater  falling  into 
disrepute. 

Owing  to  Hart's  turned  ankle,  he  had  not 
played  in  the  Harvard  game,  having  been  one 
of  the  small  army  crouched  along  the  side-lines 
on  that  momentous  occasion.  But  every 
Princeton  man  knew  that  he  was  fit,  and  the 
only  weak  spot  in  the  line  of  striped  legs  was 
now  invulnerable. 

More  printer's  ink  has  been  expended  in  the 
description  of  this  one  game  than  on  some  con- 
flicts of  the  civil  war  perhaps  ;  and  for  the 
detailed  description  of  the  plan  of  campaign, 
see  the  daily  press,  or  look  into  a  college 
scrap-book  for  that  year.  But  the  points  of 
view  of  reporter  and  spectator  are  very  differ- 
ent from  that  of  the  sweating,  deep-breathing 
individual,  whose  sensations  and  bruises  are 
taken  into  small  account.  He  has  little  time 
to  notice  anything  but  what  is  close  to  hand. 
His  ears  are  alert  for  the  quarter-back's  signals, 


The  Man  in  the  'Varsity  Sweater.    145 

and  the  roaring  of  the  thousands  of  voices 
makes  but  an  undertone,  over  which  he  must 
not  fail  to  hear  orders.  If  he  attends  to  duty 
he  sees  but  two  things — the  man  opposite  and 
the  slippery  oblong  ball. 

When  it  is  all  over,  his  heart  is  lead  or  feath- 
ers, as  the  case  may  be,  and  he  wonders  where 
the  black  and  blue  marks  came  from,  and  who 
it  was  that  gave  him  that  frightful  crack  on  the 
jaw,— but  during  the  game  he  thinks  of  how 
much  he  wants  to  win — that 's  all. 

As  the  team  clambered  down  from  the 
coach,  upon  their  arrival  at  the  grounds,  and 
elbowed  their  way  through  the  roaring  multi- 
tude, Hart  had  a  grin  on  his  face  that  fixed 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  as  if  they  had  been 
moulded. 

"  Holy  smoke  !  look  at  the  size  of  him  !  "  ob- 
served a  flashy  individual  in  a  silk  hat,  pointing 
with  his  cigar. 

"  Them  's  the  boys !  "  cried  a  knotty-faced 
little  Irishman.  "  Them  's  the  Princetons  !  " 

Some  of  the  crowd  even  extended  their 
hands  and  touched  the  players  as  they  elbowed 
their  way  toward  the  dressing-room.  Once  in- 
side, there  was  a  confusion  of  low  talking  and 


146  A  Princetonian. 

much  stamping  of  heavy-cleated  boots.  Then 
a  graduate  coach  stood  up  in  a  corner  and 
gathered  all  about  him.  (They  leaned  on  one 
another's  shoulders  and  listened  breathlessly.) 
He  began  his  speech  in  this  way  : 

"  Now,  I  'm  going  to  talk  to  you  fellows  like 
a  Dutch  uncle.  Remember  this " 

There  is  no  use  in  going  into  what  the  big 
graduate  with  the  light-blue  eyes  said,  but  if  a 
"  Dutch  uncle  "  speaks  always  in  the  manner  he 
did,  he  is  the  most  earnest  orator  and  the  most 
inspiring  talker  on  the  face  of  the  green  earth. 

The  confused  jumble  of  sound  from  the  out- 
side suddenly  raised  itself  into  a  well-defined 
burst  of  cheering — the  other  team  was  out ; 
and,  pulling  off  their  sweaters,  the  ten  men 
from  New  Jersey,  and  the  subs,  followed  their 
captain  at  a  dog-trot  through  the  walls  of 
curious  gorming  faces  and  reached  the  field. 

Hart  looked  about  him,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
the  world  must  be  present  on  the  bleachers 
and  the  hillside ;  the  enclosed  space  was  very 
small.  The  grand  stand,  as  the  reporters  put 
it,  "  was  a  mass  of  moving  color." 

"  High  there,  Pop,  mind  your  eye  !  "  shouted 
Minton,  directly  in  front  of  him. 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.   147 

The  little  half-back  was  pale,  his  teeth  were 
showing,  and  he  continually  licked  his  lips  and 
rubbed  his  nose  on  the  sleeve  of  his  jersey. 

Hart  dove  for  the  ball  as  it  came  bounding 
toward  him,  and  fell  on  it.  A  short  distance 
away  a  Yale  man  did  the  same  thing,  and  rolled 
over  and  over,  and  got  to  his  feet  Yale-fashion, 
somehow.  The  full-backs  were  making  practice 
drop-kicks  and  punts,  and  the  crowd  was  howl- 
ing  indiscriminately.  Young  men  with  badges 
and  walking-sticks  appeared  on  the  edges  of 
the  field.  But  soon  there  came  a  silence,  then 
the  flash  of  a  coin,  and  Princeton  won  the 
toss,  taking  the  westward  goal  with  the  wind 
behind  them,  and  giving  Yale  the  ball. 

"  On  your  toes,  there,  everybody !  "  cried 
Elliott.  "  They  're  going  to  try  our  old  flying 
wedge,  Buck.  Get  into  them  !  Look  out,  you 
end  rushers ! "  He  blew  into  his  hands  as  if 
his  fingers  were  being  frost-bitten. 

A  shrill  whistle,  and  down  came  the  charge 
of  the  men  in  blue.  The  game  was  on  !  Hart 
felt  as  though  he  weighed  a  thousand  pounds. 
He  plunged  forward,  and  was  first  to  meet  the 
crush  of  legs,  and  arms,  and  bodies.  It  rolled 
over  him  like  a  sea,  and  underneath  him,  dou- 


148  A  Princetonian. 

bled  up ;  his  straining  fingers  were  searching 
for  the  welcome  touch  of  the  smooth  leather. 
There  it  was  locked  tight  in  the  grasp  of  the 
thick-set  captain  from  New  Haven. 

A  futile  struggle  to  obtain  possession  of  it, 
then  the  umpire  poking  about,  managed  to  re- 
duce the  mass  to  order,  and  the  teams  lined 
up.  No  longer  now  did  Hart  see  the  crowds 
or  hear  the  cheers  and  shouting ;  no  longer  did 
he  think  of  who  he  was  or  what  he  was.  There 
was  the  goal,  there  was  the  ball,  and  there  was 
that  wild-eyed,  set-jawed  man  in  front  of  him. 
But  oh !  the  joyousness  of  the  moment  when 
he  got  through  the  line  unhampered  !  Oh !  the 
bound  of  his  heart  as  he  stopped  the  full-back's 
kick  (with  a  noise  heard  upon  the  hillside)  and 
saw  nothing  before  him  but  the  erratic  leaps 
of  the  ball  as  it  twirled  across  the  turf!  If  he 
could  only  pick  it  up  !  But  just  as  he  reached 
forward  something  bumped  him  from  behind 
and  he  slipped  and  missed  it.  The  Yale  man 
did  the  same  thing,  and  at  last  a  half-dozen 
swooped  down  upon  it  at  once.  Another  dis- 
entangling of  the  squirming  pile  of  striped  legs 
and  blue  elbows,  and  underneath  was  Minton, 
laughing  in  a  nervous  chatter.  Line  up  again  ! 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.    1 49 

And  now  backwards  and  forwards,  gaining  what 
was  lost  and  losing  what  was  gained,  they  fought 
it  out.  The  steam  rose  from  their  soaking  backs, 
and  lips  grew  dry  and  cottony,  but  the  ball 
stayed  in  the  centre  of  the  field. 

Occasionally  there  were  anxious,  nervous 
moments  when  time  was  being  taken  out  and 
a  figure,  for  the  instant  limp  or  struggling,  lay 
on  the  ground,  surrounded  by  a  bending  crowd 
(prominent  among  which  were  a  young  man  with 
a  bag,  and  an  eager  individual  with  a  dirty, 
soppy  sponge) ;  then  a  swaying,  dizzy  player, 
lurching  into  line  again,  a  cheer  from  all  around, 
or  a  substitute  dashing  up  to  fill  a  vacant  place, 
set  things  agoing.  A  minute  more  to  play  ! 
Slowly  the  ball  went  down  toward  the  eastern 
goal.  Thirty  seconds  more !  Fifteen  yards 
more  to  gain  !  Would  they  kick,  or  try  for 
it  ?  A  rush,  a  smash  !  Five  yards !  A  kick 
this  time!  Elliott  skips  backward.  The  centre 
places  his  scratched  fingers  on  the  ball.  Not 
a  sound  from  the  grand  stand.  A  spring  for- 
ward, confusion  for  an  instant,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  the  sharp  blowing  of  the  umpire's  whistle, 
and  the  world  went  crazy  ! 

The   first   half    was    over — the    result    "no 


150  A  Princetonian. 

Back  to  the  dressing-rooms  again  now,  with 
the  policemen  trying  to  make  a  path  through 
the  surf  and  surgings  of  the  mob. 

Elliott  was  talking  like  one  demented,  stamp- 
ing his  feet  and  working  his  elbows. 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind  !  "  he  was  crying. 
"  Oh,  God,  if  we  had  had  ten  seconds  more  !  " 

Another  "  Dutch  uncle"  was  speaking: 

"  You  held  them  down,  but  oh  !  confound  it, 
boys,  you  can  win  !  Oh  !  why  don't  you  do  it ! 
Rogers,  play  in  closer!  Buck,  don't  let  that 
man  get  by  you  again  !  Follow  the  ball  !  Fol- 
low that  ball!  Elliott,  try  their  left  end.  Keep 
hammering  at  it ;  you  gain  there  every  time ! 
Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  win  !  There  's  forty-five  nice  long 
minutes  ahead — make  use  of  'em  !  " 

"  It  only  seemed  to  me  that  we  were  out 
there  ten  minutes,"  chuckled  Hart  to  Frank- 
lin. The  left  guard  was  rinsing  out  his  mouth. 

"  This  half  will  be  long  enough,"  he  splut- 
tered. "  Hullo,  we  're  off  again !  You  did 
well,  old  man  ! "  he  added,  slapping  Hart  on  the 
back.  "  Keep  it  up.  I  'm  proud  of  you  !  " 

If  any  one  wishes  to  know  the  progress 
of  the  second  struggle  (or  the  first  for  that 
matter),  he  may  be  referred  to  the  diagram 


The  Man  in  the  '  Varsity  Sweater.    1 5 1 

printed  in  the  next  morning's  papers.  To  the 
uninitiated  it  may  look  like  an  engineer's  pro- 
file platting,  but  it  is  well  worth  study. 

Thirty-five  minutes  passed  and  it  was  the 
same  thing  over  again.  To  and  fro,  hammer 
and  hit,  kick  and  return  ;  bruises,  charges,  and 
countercharges,  with  long  excursions  toward 
the  goal. 

Now,  how  the  great  thing  happened  Hart 
never  knew  ;  but  suddenly,  as  he  scrambled  to 
his  feet,  he  saw  a  confusion  down  the  field,  off 
to  the  right.  The  umpire  was  working  like  a 
terrier  at  a  rathole  ;  the  crowds  were  standing 
and  still ;  but  a  striped-legged  individual  sud- 
denly leaped  into  the  air,  and,  turning  around, 
addressed  the  gods  at  large  with  extended 
arms,  and  then  threw  a  handspring ! 

Minton  had  the  ball,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it !  It  was  behind  the  Yale  goal  line  ! 
A  hero  had  been  made — a  championship  de- 
cided ! 

What  matters  the  rest !  More  battering-ram 
work  in  the  centre  of  the  field,  and  then  in  the 
course  of  time  the  whistle  blew.  Time  was  up, 
and  there  was  another  ball  for  the  Princeton 
trophy-room. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CONSEQUENCES. 

HART  was  one  of  the  many  who  returned  to 
Princeton  by  the  first  train.  He  had  shaken 
hands  so  many  times  and  had  listened  to  so 
much  loud  talking  and  cheering  that  it  had 
palled  on  him — he  wished  to  be  alone. 

Before  the  train  drew  out  of  the  station  at 
Jersey  City,  he  found  a  seat  in  the  rear  of  the 
smoking-car  next  to  a  dusty-faced  workman 
who  carried  his  dinner  pail  on  his  knees  and 
puffed  at  a  black  clay  pipe.  He  was  spelling 
out  the  evening  paper  very  audibly. 

As  Hart  sat  down  the  workman  pointed  out 
the  big  type  at  the  head  of  the  printed  page. 

"The  Tigers  won,"  he  said. 

"  So  they  did  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
heard  about  it."  With  that  Hart  pulled  his 
hat  over  his  eyes  and  fell  to  thinking. 

This  was  the  day  he  had  waited  for !  Now 
152 


Consequences.  153 

it  was  over,  what  did  it  amount  to  ?  He  could 
not  recall  that  he  had  done  anything  very  re- 
markable. In  fact  it  appeared  to  him  that  he 
had  missed  most  of  his  opportunities. 

"  I  did  my  level  best,  though,"  he  muttered 
half  aloud  ;  and  with  that  he  tried  to  dismiss 
foot-ball  from  his  mind. 

There  was  one  thought,  however,  that  kept 
coming  up  over  and  over — had  she  seen  the 
game  ?  But  why  should  he  care  ?  He  would 
never  see  those  grey  eyes  again  ;  what  right  had 
he  to  think  of  them  at  all.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing he  would  have  put  everything  behind  him  ; 
he  would  be  on  his  way  to  the  West,  to  the 
dreary,  flat  country,  to  the  little  one-horse 
town,  to  the  smell  of  ham  and  cinnamon  in  the 
store  fronting  the  half-deserted  square. 

As  he  remembered  this,  he  wrinkled  his 
brows ;  and  tried  to  draw  a  mental  picture  of 
Mabel  Van  Clees,  with  almost  a  prayer  in  his 
heart  that  the  image  would  thrill  him,  or  at 
least  would  comfort  him.  At  last  he  suc- 
ceeded, but  the  result  was  not  satisfactory. 

He  could  see  Miss  Van  Clees  standing  before 
the  bureau  in  the  sitting-room,  her  weak  little 
mouth  pursed  into  a  self-contented  smile  as 


154  ^  Princetonian. 

from  all  angles  she  looked  at  her  reflection  in 
the  glass.  The  large  hat  she  had  designed  and 
trimmed  herself  from  a  picture  in  the  Young 
Ladies  Gazette,  set  well  back  on  her  head. 
Hart  could  hear  her  words,  "  Don't  you  think 
it 's  dashing,  Newt  ?  "  He  closed  his  eyes  ;  why 
should  such  a  sneaking,  mean  little  detail  as 
the  patch  of  powder  smudged  on  her  nose  in- 
trude itself  on  him,  he  could  not  tell — it  was 
rather  unfair. 

Yet  this  was  the  girl  he  expected  to  marry — 
that  he  was  in  duty  bound  to  marry — she  loved 
him,  of  course  she  did  ;  had  he  not  kissed  her 
and  was  she  not  jealous  when  he  danced  with 
other  girls  at  the  festivals  ?  He  had  cared  for 
her  more  than  he  had  cared  for  any  other  girl 
— until  the  vision  of  some  one  very  different 
had  come  to  drive  everything  else  out  of  his 
mind.  Again  he  began  to  blame  himself,  as  if 
this  were  some  fault  of  his  own.  He  struck 
his  knees  a  blow  with  his  closed  fist  and  pulled 
his  hat  further  down  over  his  eyes. 

"  Hullo,  old  man,  you  look  a  prey  to  remorse. 
Come,  smoke  up  and  be  joyful." 

Newton  looked  quickly  round  as  he  felt  a 
hand  laid  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  Betts  who 


Consequences.  155 

had  caught  sight  of  him  and  had  hurried  down 
the  aisle  of  the  car.  As  he  spoke,  Putney  ex- 
tended a  long  cigar  with  a  brilliant  red  and  gold 
surcingle ;  then  he  struck  a  wax  match  and 
held  it  out  between  his  thumb  and  finger. 

Hart  accepted  the  offering  and  a  feeling  of 
relief  came  over  him  as  he  took  the  first  long 
puff. 

"  It 's  one  of  the  Governor's  best,"  said  L. 
Putney.  "  How  does  it  go  ?  " 

"  Splendid.     I  'd  almost  forgotten  how." 

"That 's  one  of  the  evils  of  training,  I  dare 
say,"  Betts  remarked.  "  But,  come,  brace  up  ; 
the  fellows  are  all  singing  up  ahead  here.  Oh, 
but  there  are  going  to  be  times  on  the  campus 
to-night.  Come  on  !  " 

Half  reluctantly  Hart  followed  across  the 
platform  to  the  next  car.  It  was  filled  with 
undergraduates.  How  he  wished  with  all  his 
soul  that  he  could  join  in  the  clamor — his  ap- 
pearance started  the  noise  afresh. 

"  Oh,  here  's  to  '  Pop  Hart,' '  Pop  Hart,' '  Pop 
Hart '  !  "  somebody  started  singing,  and  every 
one  joined  in. 

This  was  followed  with  "  We  love,  we  love, 
we  love  our  Princeton  foot-ball  team,"  in  a  roar 


156  A  Princetonian. 

of  discord  with  one  or  two  good  voices  ringing 
above  it. 

"  Get  gay,  Pop,  we  don't  win  a  championship 
every  year !  "  cried  Terence  Golatly,  running  up 
the  aisle.  "  By  Jove,  you  played  a  great  game," 
he  added  encouragingly — "  sure  you  did." 

But  Hart  could  not  "  get  gay."  "  I  did  n't 
do  much,"  he  answered.  Then  seeing  a  vacant 
seat  he  took  it,  and  not  till  he  sat  down  did  he 
see  that  Heaphy  was  beside  him. 

"  This  is  a  great  day  for  you,  eh  ?  "  remarked 
the  young-man-with-a-purpose,  looking  around 
half  enviously  as  he  extended  his  hand. 

Hart  muttered  something  in  reply  and 
then  relapsed  into  silence — all  at  once  he 
turned. 

"  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  something  that  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  any  one  else,"  he  said  touch- 
ing Heaphy  on  the  arm.  "  I  'm  going  to  clear 
out  to-morrow — going  to  leave  college." 

"  And  give  it  all  up ! "  asked  Heaphy  in 
astonishment. 

"  Have  to — please  don't  say  anything — I  'm 
going  to  pack  to-night  and  leave  first  thing  in 
the  morning." 

"  Ah,  don't    do  that !  "    exclaimed  Heaphy. 


Consequences.  157 

"Let  me  talk  to  you — er — remember  what  I 
said — if  you  need  any — er — help." 

"  I  Ve  got  all  the  money  I  want  for  a  time, 
thank  you  ;  it  is  n't  that,"  Hart  answered.  "  It 's 
another — strong  reason." 

"  Oh,"  said  Heaphy  awkwardly,  "  I  did  n't 
know — can  I  see  you  to-night,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  come  in  about  ten  o'clock.  I  '11  be 
glad  to  see  you.  I  may  tell  you  something 
then,  that  I  can't  tell  you  now." 

It  was  dark  when  the  train  stopped  at  the 
little  station.  With  a  rush  and  a  cheer  the 
crowd  made  for  the  campus.  The  freshmen's 
duty  was  to  collect  anything  for  a  blaze,  any- 
thing that  would  burn.  The  old  cannon  would 
glow  red  before  the  morning. 

Hart  did  not  join  in  the  rush  that  was  made 
for  the  door.  He  loitered  behind  and  paid  little 
or  no  attention  to  the  many  invitations  ad- 
dressed to  him  by  his  hoarse  young  class- 
mates. 

"  You  '11  have  to  let  me  off.  I  Ve  got  to  go 
into  my  room,"  he  said  quietly  to  Jimmie  James, 
who  had  caught  him  by  the  sleeve.  "  But, 
good  luck  to  you,  Jimmie.  Run  along  and 
chase  your  wood." 


:5&  A  Princetonian. 

"We  '11,  see  you  later,"  said  Jimmie,  as  he 
started  hot  foot  after  the  rest. 

Hart  jumped  the  fence  and  ran  across  lots 
to  Edwards  Hall.  Hurrying  down  the  dingy 
entry,  he  locked  the  door  of  his  room  behind 
him.  Now  that  he  was  face  to  face  with  his 
thoughts,  and  there  was  nothing  to  disturb 
him,  he  knew  two  things  :  he  knew  he  hated  to 
bid  farewell  for  good  and  all  to  this  new  life ; 
that  it  was  an  end  to  his  ambition.  As  he 
thought  of  this  with  a  quiver  of  bitter  anguish, 
he  looked  at  the  pile  of  books  on  the  little  pine 
table — it  had  been  a  keen  delight  to  feel  that 
he  was  learning  ;  it  was  a  pleasure  to  know  that 
his  classmates  looked  up  to  him — there  was 
even  an  accent  of  respect  in  this  appellation, 
"  Pop."  Then  as  he  thought  of  the  cheers 
from  the  thousand  throats  that  rose  as  he  had 
broken  through  the  line,  he  felt  that  pleasur- 
able sense  of  self-congratulation  that  is  not  self- 
conceit.  But  it  was  all  over — all  over.  A 
shudder  shook  him  through  and  through. 
What  was  he  going  to  do  ?  He  was  going  to 
marry  a  girl  he  did  not  love.  But  in  his  inno- 
cence of  life  he  reasoned  that  he  could  grow  to 
love  her — by  force  of  will  he  would  make  him- 


Consequences.  159 

self  content,  and  above  all  this  he  would  do  his 
best  to  make  her  happy,  come  what  might. 

There  was  a  great  to  do  out  on  the  campus  ; 
an  amateur  drum-corps  was  rattling  a  confused 
march  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  tin-horn 
band.  Cheers  sounded  from  the  direction  of 
Old  North,  and  suddenly  there  arose  above  the 
shouts,  a  crackling  that  increased  to  a  well  de- 
fined roar.  Through  the  tree-tops  beyond  Clio 
Hall  Hart  could  see  the  flames  of  the  huge 
bonfire  tearing  up  against  the  sky  ;  slowly  the 
light  grew  and  spead  until  the  fronts  of  East 
and  West  Colleges  glowed  plain,  their  sombre 
walls  tinged  with  a  red  reflection  ;  black,  hurry- 
ing figures,  some  carrying  loads,  and  others 
merely  dancing,  scurried  to  and  fro.  There 
was  excitement  in  the  smoky  atmosphere.  The 
sharp,  clear  sound  of  a  bugle  rang  out  above 
the  clamor. 

Hart  stepped  to  the  window.  The  scene 
tempted  him.  He  put  back  into  his  pocket 
the  time-table  showing  the  west-bound  trains 
from  Philadelphia,  and  opened  the  door ;  there 
was  yet  half  an  hour  before  the  time  that 
Heaphy  said  that  he  would  call,  and  he  could 
pack  up  his  few  belongings  afterwards. 


160  A  Princetonian. 

As  he  turned  to  lower  the  gas  he  noticed 
something  on  the  door-sill ;  he  picked  it  up  ; 
it  was  a  telegram  addressed  to  him.  As  he 
tore  it  open  his  heart  was  beating  wildly,  al- 
though he  knew  not  why.  The  words  seemed 
to  speak  out  loud  to  him,  startling  and  clear ; 
but,  strange  to  say,  without  at  first  a  meaning. 
He  read  them  gasping ;  then  he  closed  the 
door  softly  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  holding  the  bit  of  flimsy  paper  in  his  shak, 
ing  fingers.  He  read  the  words  again  : 

"  Bad  news.  M.  ran  off  with  S.  T.  Saunders, 
of  Snood  &  Co.,  last  night.  Mother  and  me 
heart  broke.  Will  write. 

"  M.  R.  VAN  GLEES." 

Now  he  knew  what  it  meant — he  was  free ! 
He  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow — a  blow 
that  he  could  not  return ;  yet  no  rage  at  being 
robbed  grew  within  him. 

The  cheering  and  shouts  waxed  louder,  but 
Hart  did  not  hear  them.  So  complex  were  his 
feelings  that  a  thought  uppermost  one  moment 
would  be  pushed  out  by  another  the  next ;  the 
blood  went  in  surges  through  his  veins  ;  a  pain 
came  through  his  temples.  To  a  healthy  man 


Consequences.  161 

in  this  condition  physical  movement  is  an  abso- 
lute necessity.  The  body  strives  to  restore  an 
equilibrium;  the  nerves  are  tense;  to  remain 
inactive  long  is  agony. 

He  twisted  the  telegram  into  bits,  and  with 
an  inarticulate  sound,  half  groan,  half  curse,  he 
leaped  to  his  feet.  Picking  up  his  hat  he  ran 
from  the  room,  leaving  the  gas  burning  and  the 
door  wide  open. 

Full  tilt  he  made  for  the  wild  scene  about  the 
cannon.  Two  little  freshmen  were  staggering 
along,  trundling  a  wheel-barrow  loaded  down 
with  a  huge  packing  box  filled  with  straw  and 
kindling-wood. 

"Let  me!"  Hart  cried,  and  pushing  both 
aside  he  grasped  the  handles.  Dashing  through 
the  ring  about  the  fire,  he  ran  the  barrow  and 
its  load  deep  into  the  flames ! 

Immediately  the  fierce  heat  drove  him  back, 
but  a  cheer  went  up  and  the  sound  of  his  name 
echoed  from  the  buildings. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A  CHANGE  OF    FRONT. 

THIS  was  the  night  that  L.  Putney  Betts 
gave  a  punch  in  his  room ;  of  course  it  was 
contrary  to  the  college  rules  and  might  have 
resulted  in  disaster,  but  it  was  a  very  nice,  ex- 
pensive punch,  and  had  two  bottles  of  cham- 
pagne in  it. 

Betts  being  diplomatic  had  asked  several 
members  of  the  sophomore  class  to  come  in 
and  partake  of  refreshments  as  honored  guests. 
The  list  was  small,  however,  including  only 
those  who  had  been  known  to  him  and  Con- 
greve  and  the  rest  of  them  before  at  Prep, 
school.  They  had  all  accepted  and  by  half-past 
ten  the  punch  was  brewed. 

Charlie  Townes,  whose  appearance  was  large 
but  non-athletic,  was  responsible  for  the  concoc- 
tion. He  had  declared  that  it  was  "  good  "  so 
many  times  that  Betts  had  broken  out  into  the 
following: 

162 


A  Change  of  Front.  1 63 

"  Why  don't  you  stop  tasting  it  and  putting 
things  in  it  and  give  us  a  chance?"  he  cried, 
to  which  Charlie  had  replied  that  it  needed 
just  a  dash  more  of  something  or  other,  and 
proceeded  to  taste  it  again. 

The  first  of  the  sophomoric  guests  to  arrive 
was  Mudge,  the  Red-Headed  ;  he  was  followed 
by  Potter  Clark,  who  liked  everybody  and  had 
no  enemies  ;  and  Biff  Wainwright,  who  sang  in 
the  glee  club.  Then  there  was  a  sound  of  loud 
talking  down  the  hall  and  Jack  Stahl,  the  right 
half-back  on  the  eleven,  came  into  the  room 
with  a  rush. 

Under  certain  conditions  Jack's  behavior  re- 
sembled that  of  the  traditional  bull — he  could 
break  more  things,  accidentally,  than  any  man 
in  college.  Apparently  he  was  a  little  flushed 
and  excited  this  evening,  so  Betts  shoved  the 
handsome  cigar  box  under  the  bed  and  hid  a 
huge  Chinese  jar  in  the  closet.  The  freshmen 
sat  about  quietly,  and  very  politely  the  punch 
was  handed  to  the  sophomores  first,  who  imme- 
diately drank  to  their  own  health  with  a  plain 
statement  that  they  were  "  the  people."  Stahl 
declared  that  the  stuff  was  so  good  that  he  could 
eat  the  glasses,  and  apparently  started  in  to  do 


164  A  Princetonian. 

it ;  whereupon  a  struggle  to  prevent  such  a  sad 
calamity,  took  place  between  him  and  the  rest 
of  his  classmates  on  the  divan. 

Things  had  warmed  up  considerably  by  half- 
past  eleven  when  Briggs  Talcott,  who  was 
wandering  around  with  a  guitar  swung  about 
him,  troubadour  fashion,  came  thrumming  into 
the  room.  Some  very  lusty  and  well-intentioned 
singing  took  place,  as  might  have  been  expected. 
The  sophomores  condescendingly  allowed  the 
freshmen  to  sing  with  them,  and  the  latter  dis- 
covered that  their  enemies  were  not  such  bad 
fellows  after  all,  if  they  were  rightly  treated. 

"  Well,  say,  the  president  of  your  class  is  on 
the  rampage,  is  n't  he  ?  "  observed  Talcott  to 
Jimmie  James  who  was  sitting  back  in  a  corner 
smoking  quietly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  became  of  him,"  Jimmie 
answered.  "  He  disappeared." 

"  He  went  off  with  some  juniors,  Ned  Bliss 
and  some  other  fellows,"  put  in  Congreve.  "  I 
told  him  to  come  over  here.  My  !  but  it  would 
be  funny  to  see  old  Pop  get  in  the  game." 

They  did  not  know  that  at  this  moment 
the  dignified  president  of  the  class  was  on  his 
way  to  join  this  little  gathering.  He  was  not 


A  Change  of  Front.  165 

alone  and  it  would  probably  have  astonished 
any  member  of  the  faculty,  or  Patrick  Corse 
Heaphy  even,  to  have  seen  him  at  this  moment. 

Mounted  on  his  shoulders  was  Terence  Go- 
latly,  heading  a  procession  of  one  person, 
Tommy  Wilson,  breathless  from  his  continued 
imitation  of  a  brass-band,  to  the  music  of 
which  Hart  was  cavorting  and  prancing,  while 
Terence  saluted  an  imaginary  crowd  to  right 
and  left. 

"  Whoa,  whoa,"  shouted  the  rider,  as  his 
steed  dashed  up  the  steps  of  University.  There 
was  a  wild  shout  of  welcome  as  they  galloped 
into  Betts's  room,  and  a  look  of  astonishment 
crossed  every  face  as  the  freshmen  realized  who 
it  was  that  had  caused  the  uproar.  With  a 
hasty  wave  of  his  hand  Hart  replied  to  the 
greeting  and  breathlessly  gulped  down  the  con- 
tents of  a  large  china  cup  that  was  offered  him. 

The  strong  punch  tingled  into  the  tips  of  his 
fingers.  He  held  the  cup  out  again — it  was 
not  the  first  that  he  had  had  that  night. 

Betts  looked  a  little  frightened  as  he  ladled 
out  more  punch.  Some  one  started  a  chorus, 
"  Oh,  here  's  to  Princeton  College,  drink  her 
down,"  which  was  loudly  chanted  and  was 


1 66  Princetonian. 

followed  by,  "  Oh,  here  's  to  "  a  great  many 
other  things. 

"  You  've  got  a  great  voice,  old  man,"  said 
Tommy  Wilson  to  Hart.  The  latter  was  roaring 
out  a  deep  bass  to  one  of  the  songs  of  rejoicing; 
his  face  was  red  and  his  eyes  were  sparkling. 

"  Can't  you  get  up  and  sing  us  something, 
Pop  ?  "  cried  Potter  Clark.  "  Briggs  here  will 
play  an  accompaniment  for  you." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.  "  Hold  on,  I  '11  sing 
you  something." 

The  room  was  perfectly  silent  as  he  stood 
up.  Truly  the  class  president  was  developing 
in  an  entirely  new  direction. 

The  song  was  a  plaintive,  Swedish  air;  a 
friend  of  his,  the  editor  of  the  Oakland  Chronicle, 
had  caught  it  and  put  words  to  it,  and  they 
were  far  from  bad.  Hart  had  a  round,  full 
voice,  and  as  he  stood  there,  firm  and  erect,  he 
sang  with  a  depth  of  feeling  that  no  one  would 
have  thought  he  possessed. 

Talcott  had  caught  the  accompaniment  and 
the  swing  of  the  simple  melody.  As  he  finished 
there  was  a  clapping  of  hands  and  a  shout  in 
unison.  Hart  stood  there  a  minute,  then  he 
placed  the  china  mug  he  had  been  holding,  on 


A  Change  of  Front.  167 

the  table,  and  took  one  step  towards  the 
door. 

"Good  night,"  he  said  quietly,  and  walked 
into  the  hall. 

Somebody  shouted  after  him  but  he  had 
hastened  down  the  stairway  and  out  of  doors. 
As  he  hurried  down  the  street,  heading  for  the 
front  campus,  he  could  not  account  for  the 
sudden  impulse  that  made  him  leave  the  room. 
He  had  forgotten  all  about  his  engagement 
with  Heaphy.  It  was  now  long  past  the  hour. 

The  embers  of  the  fire  about  the  cannon 
were  glowing,  and  the  taint  of  smoke  was  in 
the  damp  air.  From  various  directions  came 
the  sounds  of  a  song  or  a  chorus  ;  occasionally 
a  loud  voice  or  two,  or  the  twang  of  a  banjo  or 
guitar  rang  out.  But  the  hubbub  and  confusion 
were  over. 

Hart  stopped  and  leaning  against  one  of  the 
trees,  folded  his  arms.  Back  again  came  all 
the  thoughts  that  he  had  been  so  anxious  to 
escape.  He  wished  now  that  he  had  not  left 
his  companions.  Why  had  he  sung  it  anyhow  ? 
He  remembered  how  Mabel  used  to  sing  it  as 
she  played  her  accompaniment  on  the  squeaky 
parlor  melodeon.  Poor  little  Mabel !  What  was 


1 68  A  Princetonian. 

going  to  become  of  her  ?  With  this  thought  he 
again  grew  angry  with  himself.  Why  was  it 
that  over  all  his  feelings  triumphed  one  of 
relief  ?  He  apparently  felt  no  chagrin  at  having 
counted  for  so  little  in  Miss  Van  Clees's  affec- 
tions. If  she  wished  to  be  the  wife  of  another 
man,  he  hoped  they  would  be  happy  ;  but  what 
was  he  to  do  ?  Yes,  he  was  free  to  think  of 
some  one  else  without  disloyalty  !  But  would 
not  all  his  imaginings  turn  into  vanity?  Was 
it  not  better  for  him  to  live  and  enjoy  life, 
to  think  of  other  things  ;  to  take  just  what 
might  come  along  !  An  impulse  seized  him  to 
return  to  University  Hall,  but  at  this  moment 
some  one  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Hullo,  it's  Hart.  Well  met,  by  Jove. 
Congratulate  you  on  the  game  you  played 
to-day." 

The  speaker  was  Danforth,  the  bearded 
senior.  "  Let  me  present  Mr.  Sprague,"  he 
said.  "  Hollingsworth,  you  know." 

Hart  shook  hands  with  a  tall,  unhealthy 
looking  young  man,  and  nodded  to  Hollings- 
worth who  replied  in  the  same  way. 

"  I  say,"  said  Danforth,  "  come  up  to  my 
room  and  have  a  chat." 


A  Change  of  Front.  169 

"Got  some  fizz  up  there,"  put  in  Sprague. 
"  Better  come." 

Hart  was  about  to  decline.  Then  all  at  once 
he  changed  his  mind — without  any  further 
conversation  they  turned  toward  Witherspoon. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  Danforth  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  interesting  people,  even 
fascinating  them.  Many  men  and  women  had 
spoken  of  this ;  yet  it  could  not  be  said  that  he 
possessed  the  gift  of  winning  or  compelling  any 
lasting  affection.  Friends  of  the  heart  he  had 
none ;  plenty  of  admirers  in  a  certain  way,  and 
companions  of  the  mind,  nothing  more.  He 
was  above  that  relation  that  makes  friendly 
criticism  possible ;  he  made  no  self-acknowledged 
mistakes.  No  one  gave  Raymond  Danforth 
any  advice  about  his  habits ;  he  gave  the  im- 
pression of  having  calculated  all  the  results,  and 
decided  matters  coolly  and  collectedly.  He 
said  things  worth  remembering,  and  was  often 
quoted — besides  he  was  of  age  and  wealthy. 

Hart  was  astonished  as  he  entered  Danforth's 
rooms.  Although  Betts's  quarters  in  University 
Hall  were  handsome,  they  did  not  begin  to 
have  the  luxury  of  Danforth's.  A  brilliant 
Indian  lamp  hung  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 


1 70  A  Princetonian. 

A  divan,  half  concealed  by  some  rich  colored 
tapestry,  occupied  the  window-seat.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  things  of  unusual  interest — 
old  musical  instruments,  bits  of  valuable  plate, 
and  specimens  of  various  enamels,  for  Danforth 
was  a  collector  of  no  mean  order.  On  each 
side  of  the  fireplace  stood  a  suit  of  Japanese 
armor.  Little  carved  ivory  figures  crowded  the 
mantlepiece.  The  book-case  of  black  oak,  bear- 
ing a  date  of  the  middle  ages,  with  monastic 
facings,  was  filled  with  rare  volumes.  The 
centre  table  alone  showed  evidences  of  work ; 
books  of  reference  and  written  manuscript  cov- 
ered it.  A  number  of  quill  pens  were  standing 
upright  in  a  silver  box  filled  with  shot. 

Hart  could  not  conceal  his  interest.  He  was 
closely  examining  one  of  the  ivory  carvings 
when  Danforth,  who  had  returned  from  a  trip 
to  the  other  room,  spoke  to  him. 

"  Have  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Hart,"  he  said. 

He  extended  a  yellow,  Venetian  glass  ;  two 
dragons  were  on  each  side  for  handles,  and  the 
golden  wine  seethed  and  bubbled  from  the  bot- 
tom of  it.  Hart  took  it  very  gingerly.  He 
had  never  touched  champagne  before,  but  the 
taste  was  not  objectionable,  and  as  Danforth 


A  Change  of  Front.  171 

raised  his  glass,  a  duplicate  of  the  other  one,  to 
his  lips  and  drained  it  down,  Hart  did  the  same. 
This  was  a  very  different  style  of  drinking  from 
the  riotous  scene  that  he  had  left ;  instead  of 
being  filled  with  a  wild  excitement,  a  calm  con- 
tentment settled  down  upon  him.  A  forgetful- 
ness  of  self,  a  non-regard  for  responsibility,  and 
a  desire  only  to  enjoy  the  mental  and  moral 
drift  of  the  current  on  which  he  had  embarked. 
Another  glass  of  champagne  and  he  found  him- 
self listening  to  Danforth's  conversation  with  a 
grave  delight.  He  had  spoken  of  an  object 
that  lay  upon  a  little  bracket  against  the  wall, 
a  human  hand,  black  and  shining,  with  delicate 
finger-tips  and  pointed  nails.  The  wrappings 
of  mummy  cloth  were  still  plain  about  the 
fracture  at  the  wrist.  Danforth  was  telling 
something  of  it,  its  age  and  method  of  prepa- 
ration. 

"  It  belonged,"  he  said,  "  to  an  Egyptian 
king.  An  Arab  stole  it  for  me  at  my  direction 
— a  bit  of  devilish  vandalism,  I  admit.  It  had 
a  ring  upon  the  finger.  I  'm  wearing  the  stone 
from  that  ring  now." 

It  apparently  gave  the  senior  pleasure  to  talk 
on  of  his  possessions.  His  manner  was  so 


172  A  Princetonian. 

friendly  and  yet  so  polite,  that  a  certain  re- 
spect for  him  began  to  grow  in  Hart's  mind. 
He  did  not  hear  the  conversation  that  Sprague, 
a  rather  hang-dog  looking  chap,  and  Kenmore 
Hollingsworth  were  having  together. 

"  Oh,  he  's  just  drawing  him  out,"  Sprague 
had  remarked. 

"Looks  rather  to  be  giving  a  lecture  on 
Egyptology,"  said  Hollingsworth,  with  a  con- 
temptuous sneer  on  his  handsome  face.  "  It 
beats  my  time  what  Ray  can  see  in  such  a 
countryman  as  that." 

"A  bit  of  fresh  material  to  work  on,  besides 
a  foot-ball  man  feels  big  to-day,"  said  Sprague. 
"  To-morrow  night  Ray  '11  probably  win  all  his 
savings  without  turning  a  hair." 

"  Never  'd  fease  him,"  replied  Hollingsworth, 
whose  speech  was  a  little  thick,  and  whose 
weary  blue  eyes  had  a  far-away  expression. 
"  I  say,  talking  of  hands,"  he  went  on  in  a  loud 
voice,  with  a  chuckle,  seeing  that  Danforth  was 
just  replacing  the  shrivelled  object  on  the  shelf, 
"  let 's  throw  some,  eh  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Hart  would  join  us  in  a  little 
game,"  said  Danforth,  in  very  much  the  po- 
litely even  tone  in  which  he  might  ask  a  young 


A  Change  of  Front.  1 73 

lady  if  she  would  have  a  cup  of  tea.  "  You 
play  cards,  of  course,  old  man  ?  "  he  asked  as 
he  opened  a  draw  of  the  desk  in  a  corner  and 
took  out  a  rosewood  box  filled  with  red,  white, 
and  blue  ivory  chips. 

Rather  to  Hollingsworth's  astonishment 
Hart's  reply  was  non-committal. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  Ve  played  a  little,  but 
only  whist  or  poker." 

To  tell  the  truth  Hart  had  played  penny- 
ante,  and,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  a  quarter-of- 
a-dollar  limit,  with  Mr.  Van  Glees  and  the 
sheriff,  and  had  seen  larger  games  take  place 
between  the  drummers  at  the  hotel,  but  with 
these  latter  gentlemen  he  had  had  little  to 
do. 

Now  it  was  a  great  surprise  to  find  himself 
taking  things  so  coolly.  He  hardly  recognized 
himself  at  all ;  he  felt  a  careless  exhilaration 
that  if  he  had  paused  to  reason  over,  might 
have  frightened  him.  He  had  strange  illusions 
about  life,  the  present  and  the  future  creeping 
into  his  head  at  odd  minutes. 

When  he  sat  down  at  the  table,  he  manifested 
no  surprise  at  the  high  limit  of  the  game,  and 
calmly  opening  his  worn  wallet  he  paid  for  a 


1 74  A  Princetonian, 

pile  of  assorted  reds  and  blues  with  a  twenty- 
dollar  bill. 

Hollingsvvorth  yawned  as  the  first  cards  were 
dealt.  Between  him  and  Sprague  a  bottle  of 
champagne  rested  in  a  silver-plated  cooler  on 
the  floor. 

Again  and  again  was  Hart  astonished  at  his 
own  sensations ;  he  wondered  at  his  coolness 
as  he  played  his  hands.  No  old  gambler  could 
have  been  more  imperturbable. 

Danforth  was  regarding  him  with  admiration, 
Sprague  was  muttering  in  thick  accents  beneath 
his  breath,  and  Hollingworth's  head  would  occa- 
sionally pitch  forward  on  his  chest,  a  motion 
which  would  be  followed  by  a  defiant  glare 
around  the  table. 

Such  luck  could  scarcely  be  imagined  as  that 
in  which  Hart  played.  It  required  little  skill  for 
him  to  win.  But  all  at  once  fortune  showed 
her  fickleness  and  the  tide  turned  toward  Dan- 
forth. Slowly  the  pile  of  ivory  counters  dimin- 
ished and  as  the  excitement  of  winning  left 
him,  a  weariness  came  over  Hart's  eyes.  Sud- 
denly he  realized  that  there  was  nothing  more 
for  him  to  play  with  ;  that  Danforth  had  appar- 
ently swept  the  cloth.  With  a  curse  Sprague 


A  Change  of  Front.  1 75 

threw  his  cards  upon  the  board  and,  lurching 
upright,  started  for  the  door.  But  before  he 
reached  it  he  fell  sideways  against  the  divan, 
and  lay  there  face  downward  and  open-mouthed. 
Hart,  who  had  risen  as  if  to  catch  him  felt  the 
floor  move  sideways  beneath  his  feet,  but  his 
brain  was  clear,  and  clutching  the  back  of  a 
chair,  he  steadied  himself  in  an  instant.  Dan- 
forth  was  as  nimble  as  if  not  a  drop  had  passed 
his  lips. 

"  Well,  that  was  sudden,"  he  said  calmly ; 
"  come,  bear  a  hand,  old  man,  and  let  's  get  him 
off  to  bed." 

They  picked  up  the  helpless  mass  and  carried 
it  into  the  other  room,  where  Danforth,  with  a 
grim  smile,  began  slowly  to  unlace  Sprague's 
shoes.  After  the  task  had  been  finished,  they 
returned  to  the  study. 

"What,  another  one,"  Danforth  chuckled, 
pointing  toward  the  table. 

Kenmore  Hollingsworth,  with  his  arms 
stretched  out  before  him  and  his  curly 
head  resting  on  his  shoulder,  sat  there  fast 
asleep. 

"  Don't  touch  him,"  said  Danforth,  "  he  likes 
to  be  left  alone." 


1 76  A  Princetonian. 

He  spoke  as  if  this  was  the  usual  method  of 
Hollingsworth's  retiring.  Hart  accepted  it 
without  the  slightest  questioning. 

"  I  think  I  '11  go  to  my  room,"  he  said  at 
last,  "  I  'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  hos- 
pitality." 

"  No,  don't  hurry,"  said  Danforth,  "  have  a 
cigar  before  you  go — no?  hold  on,  by  Jove,  I 
think  I  '11  walk  over  with  you."  And  with  his 
hand  resting  lightly  on  Hart's  arm  the  senior 
walked  down  the  entry. 

As  they  came  out  on  the  stone  flagging  Dan- 
forth paused. 

"  There  is  always  something  grand  to  me  in 
the  gray  of  morning  before  sunrise !  I  Ve  seen 
a  great  many  of  them,  first  and  last,"  he  said. 
"  Have  n't  you  ever  felt  it — the  sensation  of 
having  a  bigger  breathing-space — of  possessing 
a  great  advantage  over  all  those  people  who 
are  asleep  and  miss  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  great  sight  to  see  the  sun  get  up  above 
the  edge  of  the  prairie,"  Hart  answered.  "  But 
I  never  could  tell  what  it  was  that  made  me 
feel  it  all  through  me." 

"We  don't  put  all  of  our  sensations  into 
words,"  said  Danforth.  "  He  who  can  express 


A  Cliange  of  Front.  177 

his  every  thought  is  a  mere  creature  of  language 
— er,  that 's  not  original." 

They  had  strolled  about  the  corner  and  had 
arrived  at  the  entrance  to  Edwards'.  Here 
Danforth  bade  good-morning  and,  turning, 
walked  away  without  looking  back. 

Hart  sat  down  on  the  doorstep.  Although 
it  was  damp  and  chilly  his  coat  was  open  and 
his  skin  felt  hot  and  feverish.  A  strange  bodily 
weariness  was  on  him,  but  his  brain  had  begun 
to  whirl  again  in  ever  changing  thoughts.  Now 
and  then  it  appeared  to  him  that  his  heart  beat 
faster  for  a  moment,  only  to  slow  down  again. 
What  strange  happenings  had  taken  place  in 
the  last  few  hours.  What  new  chapter  had  he 
opened  and  what  unknown  capacities  had  he  dis- 
covered within  himself !  Where  would  it  lead  ? 
What  did  it  mean  ?  He  arose  to  his  feet  and 
to  his  surprise  almost  reeled  against  the  side  of 
the  doorway.  The  morning  light  had  broadened, 
and  the  sun  was  up  above  the  clouds.  A  line 
of  mist  hung  over  the  canal  to  the  eastward. 
There  was  a  smell  of  freshness  and  salt  in  the 
air,  as  if  the  wind  that  was  from  the  distant  sea 
had  brought  the  taint  of  it.  From  the  direction 
of  the  railroad  station  there  came  the  sound  of 


1 78  A  Princetonian. 

escaping  steam.  This  was  the  morning  he  had 
intended  to  clear  out  and  leave  all  behind  him. 
How  differently  had  things  ended  ! 

He  passed  his  hand  wearily  across  his  fore- 
head and  entering  the  building  walked  down 
the  hall  to  his  room.  The  door  was  open  and 
the  gas  was  burning;  he  turned  it  out  and 
threw  himself  heavily  on  the  bed. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    WRONG    TACK. 

WINTER  had  come ;  December  was  on  the 
wane.  Heaphy  was  sitting  in  his  room  at  his 
desk,  very  late  one  evening.  He  had  just  fin- 
ished writing  out  the  translation  of  some  Latin 
text.  It  was  a  good  translation  but  his  hand- 
writing appeared  (despite  his  best  efforts  to 
make  it  clear  and  legible)  like  that  of  a  man  well 
used  to  the  swinging  of  an  axe,  or  the  guiding 
of  a  plow.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  he  stopped 
his  scribbling  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  Then  he 
rose,  gave  a  loud  sigh,  and  wiping  his  pen  care- 
fully upon  a  bit  of  blotting-paper  stepped  to  the 
window. 

It  had  been  snowing  all  the  day  just  passed  ; 
the  outlines  of  everything  were  softened  by  the 
white  covering,  and  the  paths  that  led  from  one 
building  to  another  were  undisturbed  except 
for  an  occasional  footprint.  The  vacation  stamp 
was  in  the  very  stillness  of  the  air.  To-morrow 
179 


180  A  F*rincetonian. 

would  be  Christmas  !  Heaphy  was  feeling  ex- 
ceedingly unhappy.  He  had  declined  two  invi- 
tations to  leave  college  and  spend  the  holidays  ; 
one  was  from  a  former  schoolmaster  and  the 
other  from  a  high  official  in  the  trust  Company 
that  was  as  yet  Heaphy's  legal  guardian.  Often 
had  he  acknowledged  his  bitter  loneliness,  for  he 
possessed  not  a  single  relative,  so  far  as  he  knew, 
in  the  outside  world,  and  there  was  none  here 
united  to  him  by  the  close  bonds  of  friendship. 

He  heard  a  door  slam,  down  the  entry,  and 
footsteps  approaching  his  room.  He  knew  in 
a  minute  that  it  was  Hart.  The  latter  opened 
the  door  after  a  hurried  knock,  and  stood  there 
looking  in. 

"  Why  don't  you  light  a  light  ?  "  he  said  at 
last. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  returned  Heaphy, 
and  jumping  up  he  began  to  do  so  forthwith. 
"Come  in,"  he  said,  when  he  had  finished. 
"  Have  a  chair."  Then  he  sat  down  at  the 
desk  again. 

Hart  walked  over  to  the  position  at  the  win- 
dow that  Heaphy  had  left  and  watched  the 
soggy  wet  flakes  of  snow  fall  slowly  through  the 
ray  of  light  down  to  the  white  earth.  Heaphy 


The  Wrong  Tack.  181 

had  resumed  his  work  and  it  was  evident  that 
the  two  young  men  were  either  on  very  good 
terms  with  one  another,  or  exactly  the  opposite, 
for  they  did  not  speak.  But  the  truth  of  the 
matter  was  that  Heaphy  had  been  both  hurt 
and  angered  by  Hart's  conduct  for  some  time 
past  and  was  rather  sulky.  One  glance  at  Hart 
would  have  shown  how  much  he  had  altered  in 
the  last  four  months.  He  was  thinner  and  at 
present  his  face  had  rather  a  worn  look ;  but 
his  eyes  were  bright  and  despite  the  frown  on 
his  forehead,  and  a  worried  turn  in  the  corner  of 
his  mouth,  his  superb  health  was  evident. 

"  Why  were  n't  you  at  Latin,  last  recitation  ?  " 
asked  Heaphy,  at  last. 

"  Just  took  a  cut,"  Hart  replied.  "  Think  I 
can  stand  it." 

Heaphy  whirled  in  his  chair.  A  flush  as  of 
anger  clouded  his  face  but  he  restrained  himself. 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  very  happy,"  he  said, 
rubbing  his  knees  and  leaning  forward.  "  Are  n't 
you  making  some  mistakes,  eh,  now?" 

Hart  paused  before  he  replied.  "  I  don't  think 
I  '11  ever  be  very  happy — that  's  a  fact,"  he  said. 
"  And  as  for  mistakes,  I  suppose  they  're  my 
own  ;  but  there  're  some  mistakes  in  life." 


1 82  A  Princetonian. 

"  Ah,  that  is  n't  the  way  to  look  at  things," 
Heaphy  began.  "  Life  is  a  good  deal  like  a 
book.  What  you  get  out  of  it  does  not  de- 
pend so  much  upon  what  is  written  there  as 
what  you  bring  to  it  yourself." 

Hart  shot  a  curious  glance  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye. 

"  That  's  true,"  he  said,  leaning  back  against 
the  wall.  "  You  can  make  it  dull  or  interest- 
ing. At  present  I  am  not  so  sure  but  that  I 
enjoy  myself  very  much  at  times." 

"  But,  are  you  satisfied  ?  "  asked  Heaphy. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  shall  be." 

"  There  's  something  on  your  mind,"  said  the 
young-man-with-a-purpose,  running  his  fingers 
through  his  shock  of  hair.  He  stood  up  and 
shifted  his  weight  from  one  leg  to  the  other. 
"You  want  responsibility  and  work." 

Hart  laughed  rather  oddly. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  returned  Heaphy.  "Incen- 
tive is  the  great  thing.  You  ought  to  want 
something." 

"  Supposing  what  you  want  you  know 
you  can't  get,"  Hart  returned  ambiguously. 
"  What  's  left  then  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?     Work,  of  course." 


The  Wrong  Tack.  183 

"  If  that  were  so,  what  's  the  matter  with 
pleasure  and  interest  ?  "  inquired  Hart. 

"  It  won't  last.  I  Ve  tried  it  myself,"  an- 
swered Heaphy. 

Hart  picked  up  the  'Varsity  sweater  that  he 
had  dropped  over  the  back  of  a  chair.  He 
began  to  struggle  into  it  with  a  good  deal  of 
swinging  and  twisting  of  his  arms  about  his 
head.  When  he  had  emerged,  Heaphy  was 
standing  directly  in  front  of  him.  He  caught 
him  by  both  elbows. 

"  Don't  think  me  interfering,  but  I  wish  I 
could  help  you  somehow." 

Hart  replied  to  this  in  a  low  tone,  but  with 
an  impatient  shrug. 

"  It  's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I  'm  just  trying 
to  enjoy  myself,  because " 

"  Because,  why  ?  " 

"  Because  there  is  n't  anything  else  to 
do." 

"  Well,  you  know  your  own  mind,"  Heaphy 
returned  somewhat  testily. 

"  No,"  said  Hart,  "  I  don't ;  that 's  the  funny 
part  of  it."  With  that  he  hurried  off  into  the 
snow. 

If  there  was  one  characteristic  about  him,  it 


184  A  Prince  Ionian. 

was  that  he  was   perfectly  truthful  with  him- 
self, or  he  tried  to  be. 

What  he  was  doing  he  was  doing  very  delib- 
erately, with  the  hope  in  his  mind  that  at  least 
he  might  find  it  satisfying.  His  common  sense 
made  it  plain  to  him  that  no  lasting  good  would 
come  from  this  careless,  false  philosophy,  but 
he  imagined  that  it  afforded  him  relief — relief 
from  pondering  over  an  apparently  hopeless 
situation.  Mere  work  in  the  abstract  without 
an  object  held  no  distraction  for  him.  It  did 
not  forestall  the  imaginings  that  he  knew  were 
vain — the  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star.  It  was 
the  mere  relaxation  that  he  was  after.  He  had 
tried  to  ridicule  himself  out  of  his  attitude  ;  he 
had  tried  to  reason  himself  free,  but  no,  it  would 
not  do.  At  night  he  dreamed  of  her ;  by  day, 
if  he  did  not  curb  himself  he  would  have  walked 
alone,  breathed  her  name  to  the  air,  or  he  might 
have  carved  it  on  the  trees.  All  this  may  have 
gone  to  prove  that  he  was  very  different  from 
the  average  run  of  his  fellows,  and  perhaps 
should  have  lived  centuries  ago  when  men  al- 
lowed themselves  to  do  such  things.  How 
strange  it  would  have  been  if  he  could  have 
replied  to  Heaphy's  questions  with  the  simple 


The  Wrong  Tack.  185 

words :  "  I  am  in  love ;  that  is  what  is  the  mat- 
ter." What  sort  of  an  explanation  would  that 
be? 

It  was  a  desire  to  escape  his  thoughts  and 
not  the  companionship  of  his  classmates  that 
made  him  seek  stronger  distractions  than  the 
limited  possibilities  and  temptations  that  the 
freshmen  generally  afforded.  Their  principal 
occupation  consisted  in  getting  "  grinds  "  on 
one  another  and  giving  strange  nicknames  to 
common  objects.  This  did  not  amuse  him. 
The  friendship  with  Danforth  afforded  him 
much  diversion,  and,  although  he  had  not  gam- 
bled since  the  first  occasion,  because  he  knew 
that  he  could  not  afford  to  lose,  and  for  no 
other  reason,  many  a  night  he  and  the  senior 
had  sat  up  until  the  short  hours  of  past  mid- 
night talking.  He  was  not  drifting  altogether 
aimlessly,  for  two  things  he  had  determined 
upon  :  one  was  to  stay  out  this  year  at  college 
and  then  to  leave  and  work  with  hands  or 
brain,  because  it  would  be  necessary  for  him 
to  do  that,  that  he  might  live.  The  sum  of 
money  he  had  saved,  intending  it  to  last  him 
at  least  two  years  would  be  gone,  at  the  pres- 
ent rate  of  living,  long  before  the  blossoms 


1 86  A  Princetonian. 

of    the    coming    spring  would   have  left  the 
trees. 

He  kicked  the  snow  ahead  of  him  as  he 
walked  down  the  path  under  the  leafless  elms. 
"  Oh,  if  I  could  but  see  her  once  again  ! "  he 
said  aloud  as  he  thought  of  the  time  when  he 
had  watched  her  in  the  little  church  at  Orange. 
But  Bliss  had  hardly  spoken  to  him  on  the  cam- 
pus for  some  time  past,  and  Hollingsworth  and 
he  met  but  occasionally  in  Danforth's  rooms. 
Hart  felt  rather  constrained  when  he  was  there. 
What  would  he  say  if  he  only  knew  ?  But  no 
one  would  know ;  there  was  no  one  he  could 
tell.  On  he  rushed  into  the  snowy  night,  as  if 
he  could  leave  his  thoughts  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
SPRING  TERM. 

IT  was  a  very  early  spring ;  warm  weather 
had  come  before  the  little  patches  of  snow  that 
lingered  about  the  roots  of  the  trees  had  fairly 
gone.  The  birds  and  the  buds  had  seemed  to 
come  all  at  once,  as  if  the  latter  had  started  at 
the  first  bluebird's  note.  Nature  was  prepared 
to  give  that  wondrous  leap  from  April  into 
June. 

The  afternoon  lectures  and  recitations  were 
over  and  groups  of  undergraduates  crossed  the 
campus  in  all  directions,  some  heading  for  their 
rooms,  and  some  walking  over  towards  Nassau 
street,  calling  back  for  one  or  another  to  come 
and  join  them. 

Ned  Bliss  and  Manager  Bishop,  with  locked 

arms,  crossed  the  muddy  street  and  entered  a 

rather  disreputable-looking  alley.    They  turned 

into  a  door-way  on  the  right  and  entered  the 

187 


1 88  A  Princetonian. 

big  room  at  Dohm's,  where  the  undergraduate 
drinks,  sings,  and,  when  very  hungry,  eats. 
Bishop  sat  down  on  one  of  the  hard  wooden 
chairs,  and  took  out  his  pocket-knife.  Bliss 
shouted  an  order  at  the  waiter.  Then  he  did 
some  very  skilful  balancing  on  the  back  legs  of 
his  chair  while  Bishop  began  to  whistle  very 
correctly  and  loudly. 

"  Hear  Pop  Hart  got  on  the  Glee  Club," 
said  Ned  at  last. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  he  'd  get  on  the  club  as  soon 
as  I  heard  his  voice,"  returned  the  manager, 
who  was  adding  his  name  to  the  many  carved 
on  the  top  of  the  stained  brown  table.  "  He  's 
got  one  of  those  round,  full  bases  like  Thomp- 
son's in  '87.  You  remember  hearing  him  when 
you  were  at  Prep,  school,  don't  you  ?  He  '11  sing 
second  bag  for  us  all  right  ;  we  needed  him." 

Ned  was  making  rings  with  the  bottom  of 
his  beer-glass  while  the  manager  was  talking ; 
suddenly  he  looked  up. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  change  come  over  a  man 
in  my  life,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You  know  I  was 
attracted  to  him  at  first  by  his  naturalness,  by 
his  self-reliant  manner  and  simplicity.  He  's 
lost  a  deal  of  the  last." 


Spring  Term.  189 

"  All  goes  to  show,"  replied  Bishop,  looking 
up  from  his  whittling,  "  that  success  is  hard  to 
stand.  The  whole  thing  's  developed  from  his 
playing  on  the  winning  'Varsity  team.  I  won- 
der if  the  faculty  have  talked  it  over,  or  if  they 
have  noticed  anything  at  all." 

"  Outside  of  cutting  recitations,  it  is  n't  usual 
for  a  freshman  to  become  chummy  with  a 
senior,  and  the  leader  of  the  fastest  set  in  col- 
lege, at  that.  Hart  does  n't  travel  with  his 
classmates  any  more,  you  know.  I  think  they 
are  getting  a  little  bit  soured  on  him.  Now, 
Danforth  is  an  interesting  chap,"  Ned  went  on. 

"  I  '11  admit  that.    He  has  ideas  galore " 

"  But  mighty  little  principle,"  put  in  Bishop. 
"  But  it  's  strange  how  Pop  Hart  has  changed. 
He's  lost  all  that  Western  hoosier-look." 

"  Well,  why  should  n't  he,"  resumed  Ned. 
"  He  's  wearing  a  suit  of  clothes  made  by  Dan- 
forth's  tailor  now ;  so  Sharky  Sprague  says. 
There 's  a  pill  for  you,  that  fellow  Sprague. 
They  make  a  combination,  that  crowd  :  a  senior, 
two  juniors,  and  the  president  of  the  freshmen 
class." 

"  You  know  a  funny  thing  about  that — Hart 
never  behaved  like  a  freshman  to  me." 


1 90  A  Princetonian. 

"  That 's  because  he  did  'nt  feel  like  one,  I 
suppose,"  Bishop  said,  closing  his  penknife  with 
a  snap.  "  We  seem  to  be  taking  an  uncommon 
lot  of  interest  in  it.  What  do  you  think  of 
that  work  of  art  ?  "  pointing  to  his  name  freshly 
cut  in  the  table-top. 

"  Sure  you  Ve  spelled  it  right?  "  Bliss  asked 
with  a  laugh. 

Suddenly  two  figures  came  in  through  the 
side  door.  Tommy  Wilson  had  a  fisherman's 
sou'wester  on  his  head  ;  a  brown  leather  shoot- 
ing-coat, and  rubber  thigh-boots  completed  his 
costume.  Fred  Minton  dressed  in  a  long-cape 
mackintosh  followed  him. 

"  It 's  raining,  by  jinks,"  said  Tommy  Wilson, 
with  a  noisy  stamping  of  his  boots.  "  I  say,  you 
fellows,  let 's  go  into  one  of  those  inside  rooms. 
Tad  Elliott's  coming  over  in  a  few  minutes." 

Bliss  and  Bishop  rose,  and  the  four  juniors 
passed  through  the  side  door. 

Dohm's  would  have  possessed  an  interest  for 
the  stranger  of  an  exploring  turn  of  mind. 
The  low  wooden  building  had  as  many  passage- 
ways and  strange  out-of-the-way  corners  and 
recesses  as  the  catacombs.  Upstairs  or  down- 
stairs you  might  travel,  and  to  right  and  left 


Spring  Term.  191 

find  bare  little  rooms  with  pine  tables  and 
wooden  chairs.  One  room  might  be  occupied 
by  a  noisy,  singing  crowd,  while  the  next  by  a 
quiet,  beer-sipping  group,  discussing  science  or 
religion,  politics  or  football.  Colored  waiters, 
in  long  white  aprons,  now  and  then  whisked 
out  of  one  passage-way  and  down  another.  A 
short  cut  to  some  of  those  isolated  apartments 
was  through  the  backyard,  saving  the  time 
spent  in  penetrating  the  labyrinth  of  dark  hall- 
ways. Led  by  Tommy  Wilson,  the  juniors 
descended  two  or  three  steps,  crossed  the  yard, 
opened  the  door  of  a  room  and  seated  them- 
selves. No  sooner  had  they  done  so  than 
Elliott,  the  foot-ball  captain,  appeared  just  as  the 
waiter  struck  a  sputtering  sulphur  match  and 
lit  the  lamp. 

"  Had  a  strange  time  last  night,"  Elliott  be- 
gan. "  Happened  to  go  into  Danforth's  room, 
and  found  Pop  Hart." 

"  As  usual,"  said  Ned  Bliss.  "  He  does  n't 
seem  to  go  with  his  own  classmates  any  more, 
I  just  said  to  the  manager.  He 's  had  too 
many  privileges,  I  'm  thinking." 

"  Well,  what  about  the  evening  ?  "  said  some 
one. 


192  A  Princetonian. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Elliott  returned.  "When  I  went 
into  the  room  I  found  Danforth  and  Hart  deep 
in  an  argument.  You  know  what  a  keener 
Raymond  Danforth  is  on  an  argument,  espe- 
cially in  political  history  and  sich  ;  well,  upon  my 
word,  he  was  getting  the  worst  of  it.  They 
didn't  pay  any  attention  to  me  and  I  just  sat 
there  and  took  it  all  in." 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  very  exciting,"  put 
in  Tommy  Wilson,  thumping  on  the  table  and 
calling  for  the  waiter  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  Well,  it  was  n't  that,"  Elliott  went  on,  "  but 
the  fact  that  a  bottle  of  Teacher's  Scotch  was 
on  the  table,  it  must  have  been  filled  when  they 
started,  and  they  kept  dipping  into  it  and  dip- 
ping into  it.  They  paid  every  attention  to 
parliamentary  rules  and  laws  of  debate,  and, 
although  I  have  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  Dan- 
forth saw  some  humor  in  the  situation,  I  am 
sure  Hart  did  n't." 

"  Oh,  he  's  earnest  enough  in  anything  he 
takes  up ;  the  only  trouble  is  he  ought  n't  to 
take  up  the  wrong  thing,"  said  Bliss ;  "  sip,  sip 
is  bad  business." 

"  Hear  he  got  on  the  Glee  Club,"  chuckled 
Elliott. 


Spring  Term.  193 

"Yes,"  answered  Manager  Bishop,  "  he  's  got 
a  bully  good  voice." 

After  some  more  conversation  upon  various 
topics,  the  party  at  Dohm's  broke  up  and  went 
out  into  the  drizzling  rain. 

Minton  took  one  of  the  others  under  the 
shelter  of  his  mackintosh  while  the  rest  of 
them  attempted  to  crowd  under  the  one  um- 
brella in  the  party.  Just  at  the  entrance  they 
passed  two  hurrying  figures  who  were  walking 
arm  in  arm. 

"  There  they  go !  "  exclaimed  Elliott  over 
his  shoulder. 

The  two  figures  were  Pop  Hart  and  Dan- 
forth.  The  latter  had  not  been  popular  enough 
to  be  elected  into  any  of  the  exclusive  junior 
or  senior  clubs,  so  with  three  or  four  of  his 
satellites,  he  dined  at  a  little  place  down  Nassau 
Street ;  and  his  lack  of  general  popularity 
seemed  not  to  effect  him  in  the  least. 

Hart  and  he  were  hurrying  toward  the  sta- 
tion— they  were  bound  for  New  York.  It 
was  Danforth's  determined  intention  to  put  in 
practice  a  long  fostered  scheme  to  show  the 
unsophisticated  Westerner  "  the  town."  The 
pleasure  that  he  would  derive  from  it  would 


194  A  Princetonian. 

be  from  listening  to  Hart's  comments,  or  wit- 
nessing his  sensations. 

For  all  his  frankness  and  simplicity  Hart 
had  always  kept  a  certain  reserve,  and  this  the 
senior  would  like  to  have  seen  broken  down. 
He  knew  well  that  he  should  be  careful  to 
give  Hart  no  offence :  it  was  an  interesting 
game  that  he  had  to  play,  and  he  doubted 
more  than  once  whether  he  could  ever  obtain 
a  domination  over  him  in  any  way.  But  there 
was  a  secret  of  some  kind  that  Hart  held  that 
Danforth  wished  to  know — just  from  curiosity. 

As  the  two  young  men  reached  the  station, 
they  were  met  by  Danforth's  servant  who 
carried  their  bags. 

"  I  have  telegraphed  ahead,"  said  Danforth, 
"  to  have  a  dinner  ready  for  us  and  we  '11  have 
just  about  time  to  dress. 

Hart  paused  on  the  platform  of  the  car.  It 
seemed  longer  than  eight  months  ago  that  he 
had  arrived  there  with  his  paper  parcel  under 
his  arm,  and  the  bag  he  now  carried  was  very 
different  from  the  old  one  ;  he  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  he  was  then,  life  was  very 
different  !  How  it  would  all  end  he  did  not 
know,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  think  about  it. 


Spring  Term.  195 

One  thing  he  knew,  however,  and  regarded  it, 
strange  to  say,  without  much  dismay.  He  was 
rapidly  reaching  the  end  of  his  financial  tether. 
But  if  any  one  had  asked  him  what  he  had 
gained,  or  whether  it  all  had  paid  he  could  not 
have  answered  ;  there  was  a  sensation  of  loss, 
also,  that  came  over  him  at  times. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  CHANGE  OF    PURPOSE. 

"  THERE  are  two  kinds  of  remorse  and  two 
only,"  said  Raymond  Danforth,  as  he  leaned 
across  the  table  at  Delmonico's. 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  Hart  asked. 

"  Physical  and  financial.  That  is,  if  you  feel 
well,  there  is  no  use  having  any  regret  for 
something  which  you  Ve  done  that 's  past  and 
gone.  And,  if  your  pocket-book  is  in  good 
condition,  you  can't  feel  very  bad  any  how. 
A  full  pocket-book  is  a  great  salve  to  the  feel- 
ings— a  balm  to  regret,  eh  ?  " 

Hart  paused  a  moment,  before  he  replied. 
He  had  held  conversations  with  Danforth  such 
as  he  had  held  with  no  one  else  before ;  per- 
haps he  had  absorbed  a  little  of  the  senior's 
pessimism — but  he  was  too  individual  to  come 
directly  under  his  influence. 

"What    you    say    may    be    all    right,"   he 
answered,  "  but  you  Ve  left  out  conscience." 
196 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  197 

"  Glad  I  did,"  Danforth  returned,  "  it 's  the 
most  shocking  thing  in  human  construction, 
and  should  be  killed  at  an  early  age  in  chil- 
dren. It  leads  them  to  all  sorts  of  morbid 
thoughts  and  actions  and  to  unnatural  conduct 
toward  other  people.  Upon  my  soul,  I  rejoice 
to  say  I  have  n't  any." 

Hart  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  "  I  Ve 
got  one  that  I  don't  want  to  kill,"  he  said 
thoughtfully  ;  "at  least  I  suppose  I  have." 

"  Mental  indigestion — wish  you  joy  of  it," 
Danforth  replied.  "  Hullo,  there  are  some  of 
your  kids  over  there,  aren't  they?  What  are 
they  in  town  for?  " 

Hart  looked  across  the  room.  Simeon  Con- 
greve  and  L.  Putney  Betts  had  taken  possession 
of  a  corner  table.  They  looked  very  neat  and 
young  in  their  evening  dress  and  immaculate 
ties,  and  Congreve's  collar  was  so  high  that  it 
made  one  nervous  to  watch  him  turn  his  head. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  over  and  speak  to 
them  ? "  Danforth  said,  seeing  that  this  idea 
was  in  Hart's  mind.  "  You  '11  have  time 
enough." 

Hart  pushed  back  his  chair  and  walked  tow- 
ards the  freshmen. 


1 98  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  can't  believe  it 's  the  same  chap,"  said 
Congreve  looking  stiffly  across  at  Betts. 

There  was  a  little  embarrassment  in  the 
meeting,  as  if  Hart  had  been  an  upper-class  man 
who  had  come  to  greet  them.  Hart  did  not 
know  that  his  growing  intimacy  with  Dan- 
forth  had  excited  adverse  comment  among  his 
classmates.  He  would  have  regretted  it  most 
likely,  but  being  independent  to  the  verge  of 
obstinacy,  it  would  have  made  little  matter 
to  him. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-night  ?  "  he 
asked  Betts,  as  he  leaned  over  the  table. 

"  Going  to  the  opera,"  Putney  replied. 

"  That 's  just  what  we  are  going  to  do,"  Hart 
said  eagerly.  "  You  know,  I  Ve  never  been,  in 
my  life,  and  have  n't  the  slightest  idea  of  what 
it 's  like.  Funny,  eh  ?  They  won't  have  a 
hayseed  like  me  in  the  audience  every  time." 

"  You  might  let  them  know  you  're  coming," 
put  in  Congreve. 

"  That 's  a  good  idea,"  laughed  Hart.  "  Give 
them  warning,  eh  ?  " 

After  a  few  words  more  of  friendly  banter, 
he  returned  to  Danforth  who  was  waiting  to 
remove  the  cover  from  the  soup. 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  1 99 

The  president  of  the  freshmen  class  was  very 
well  dressed  in  a  well-fitting  suit  of  evening 
clothes,  and  it  was  rather  hard  to  imagine  that 
so  few  months  ago  he  had  arrived  at  the  station 
with  the  paper  bundle  under  his  arm  and  a 
shoe-string  necktie  around  his  throat.  But  the 
strange  thing  about  it  all  was  that  with  all  this 
metamorphosis  of  habiliment  there  was  no 
affectation  of  speech  or  manner.  He  was  more 
at  his  ease  perhaps  with  strangers,  but  the  in- 
dividual man  had  changed  but  little ;  he  had 
picked  up  not  a  little  of  the  knowledge  that 
can  seldom  be  learned  from  reading. 

"  Now,  I  dare  say,  old  chap,"  observed  Dan- 
forth  across  the  table,  "  that  our  being  seen 
together  has  excited  a  great  deal  of  talk.  Seniors 
don't  very  often  travel  with  freshmen,  you 
know." 

"  Let  them  say  what  they  like,"  Hart  replied. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  care  mighty  little.  Cer- 
tainly I  am  free  to  choose  my  friends ;  and, 
honestly,  some  of  my  own  class  are  pretty 
young.  What  are  these  little  pink  things  in  the 
soup?"  he  asked  suddenly  after  a  pause. 

"  Oyster  crabs,"  returned  Danforth,  "  never 
tasted  them  before,  did  you  ?  " 


2oo  A  Princetonian. 

"  Don't  grow  out  our  way.  They  're  good 
eating." 

Thus  it  went  on  through  the  dinner.  Hart, 
natural,  unassuming,  and  perfectly  frank,  and 
unsophisticated  enough  to  be  amusing.  The 
conversation  consequently  was  such  as  might 
pass  between  two  men  who  knew  each  other 
well.  It  was  not  until  the  end  of  the  meal, 
over  the  coffee,  that  they  fell  into  some  discus- 
sion and  in  the  midst  of  it  Danforth  suddenly 
looked  up  at  the  clock  and  pursed  his  lips  into 
a  whistle. 

"  Hue ! "  he  ejaculated,  stroking  his  beard, 
"  we  have  missed  most  of  the  first  act  with  our 
gabble.  Come  on,  we  '11  run  out  and  get  a  cab." 

As  they  entered  the  foyer  of  the  Opera 
House,  Hart  was  impressed  with  the  deliber- 
ateness  with  which  the  people  walked  about. 
They  seemed  to  be  much  at  home.  It  was  not 
a  rush  to  get  in  and  settled  in  deadly  fear  of 
missing  something,  they  stopped  and  chatted, 
and  all  wore  the  unmistakable  air  of  having 
been  there  before.  But  the  novelty  appealed 
so  strongly  to  him  that,  as  he  sat  down  in  his 
comfortable  stall,  a  sense  of  bewilderment  came 
over  him.  The  brilliant  boxes  and  the  glare 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  201 

of  light,  the  immense  circle,  the  movement  of 
fans,  and  the  gleam  of  bare  jewelled  arms — all 
these  were  new  to  him.  It  appeared  to  him  as 
though  he  had  suddenly  grown  into  another 
life  and  was  the  inhabitant  of  another  world. 

The  opera  was  "  Carmen."  It  was  the  scene 
in  the  court-yard  of  the  inn.  In  less  than  five 
minutes  Hart  had  forgotten  the  crowd  about 
him  and,  so  far  as  he  knew,  he  sat  there  all 
alone.  The  music  swayed  him  with  a  delight 
that  made  him  breathless.  Danforth  was  sit- 
ting beside  him  leaning  well  back,  and  watch- 
ing his  face.  Although  the  opera  and  the 
music  was  an  old  story  to  him,  he  was  reflect- 
ing the  enjoyment  that  his  companion  felt. 

At  last  the  act  was  over,  and  the  curtain  fell. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  Dan- 
forth asked,  as  Hart  looked  around  at  him. 

"  I  can't  exactly  tell  you,"  was  the  answer. 
"  I  wish  I  understood  the  story." 

"  It  's  all  here  in  the  program,"  Danforth  re- 
turned, pointing  out  with  his  finger.  "  Read 
it  while  I  look  about  the  house." 

He  swept  the  arches  above  him  with  his 
glass,  while  Hart  buried  himself  in  the  fortunes 
of  Carmen  of  Sevilla. 


2O2  A  Princetonian. 

"  Hello,  there  are  the  Hollingsworths  !  " 
ejaculated  Danforth  all  at  once.  Hart 
looked  up. 

"  Where  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Right  there  to  the  left — below  that  big, 
hideous  woman  in  the  blue  gown — see,  the 
one  with  the  diamonds." 

Yes,  there  they  were,  to  be  sure.  He  recog- 
nized Miss  Hollingsworth  sitting  in  the  front 
of  the  box.  Her  mother  sat  next  to  her,  and 
behind  her  appeared  an  array  of  white  shirt- 
fronts.  A  strange,  uncomfortable  thumping 
came  into  Hart's  breast.  A  half-frightened 
feeling  that  destroyed  his  peace  of  mind.  He 
drew  a  long  breath.  Just  as  he  looked  up 
toward  the  box,  Miss  Hollingsworth  raised  her 
glass  and  looked  down  at  the  people  in  the 
seats  below. 

"  Jove,  she  *s  a  hummer,"  said  Danforth. 
"  See,  she  's  bowing  to  us — look,  she  sees 
us." 

Hart  nodded  confusedly,  and  an  instant  later 
Danforth  jumped  up. 

"  By  Jove,  I  'm  going  up  to  speak  to  her," 
he  said.  "  Come  along,  man,  don't  miss  an 
invitation  like  that." 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  203 

Hart  arose  after  him  and  followed  out  into 
the  foyer  and  up  the  velvet-carpeted  staircase. 
Groups  of  well-dressed  men  were  chatting  on 
all  sides,  or  by  twos  and  threes  were  strolling 
up  and  down.  Now  and  then  one  would  rush 
over,  open  the  door  leading  to  one  of  the  boxes, 
and  disappear.  There  was  a  constant  passing 
to  and  fro.  But  he  had  begun  to  wonder  at 
himself.  Actually,  to  the  best  of  his  recollec- 
tion, he  had  never  felt  so  frightened  in  his  life. 
No;  not  even  when  he  had  looked  into  Bord 
M'Govern's  angry  eyes,  as  the  latter  had  reached 
for  his  revolver.  His  throat  was  absolutely  dry 
from  fear, — and  fear  of  what  ?  Nothing  tangi- 
ble— the  fear  of  meeting  a  tall,  stately  figure, 
the  back  of  whose  head  and  whose  bare  shoul- 
ders he  could  see  as  she  turned  to  speak  to  one 
of  the  little  court  behind  her.  At  last  Dan- 
forth  found  room  to  press  forward  and  speak 
to  Mrs.  Hollingsworth,  much  to  the  discomfort 
of  an  old,  gray-mustached  gentleman  with  a 
single  eye-glass,  who  glared  angrily,  almost  hun- 
grily, at  the  little  senior. 

After  a  minute's  conversation  with  the 
mother,  Danforth  spoke  to  Miss  Hollings- 
worth, whom  he  had  already  greeted. 


204  A  Princetonian. 

"  Pop  Hart,  the  big  freshman,  is  in  the  back 
of  the  box,  you  remember  meeting  him,  don't 
you  ?  "  he  said  in  a  whisper. 

In  reply  Miss  Hollingsworth  glanced  over 
her  shoulder,  and  extended  her  hand  in  a 
graceful  little  way.  Hart  stepped  forward. 
His  great  fingers  were  taken  firmly  and  warmly 
in  the  long,  slender  ones. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hart?"  the  girl 
exclaimed  with  real  interest.  "I  saw  you 
sitting  down  below  and  hoped  you  'd  come  up 
and  shake  hands  with  me." 

At  this,  a  narrow-shouldered  youth  with  very 
prominent  teeth  and  a  perpetual  smile,  who  had 
been  occupying  a  chair  immediately  behind 
Miss  Hollingsworth,  arose.  The  tall  girl  smiled 
kindly  at  him,  and  then  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Do  take  that  chair,"  and  Hart  did  so.  Not, 
for  all  his  life  could  he  think  of  anything  to  say. 
He  was  angry  with  himself  for  being  so  upset. 
No  person,  man  or  woman,  had  ever  made  him 
feel  so  strangely !  and  just  then  he  noticed 
that  all  of  the  young  men  wore  white  kid 
gloves.  What  would  Miss  Hollingsworth  think 
of  him  to  have  dared  to  shake  hands  with  her 
without  having  them  on.  But  apparently  Miss 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  205 

Hollingsworth  was  thinking  of  something  very 
different,  for  she  half  turned  in  her  chair,  and 
inquired  with  a  smile  and  a  direct  glance  from 
her  honest  gray  eyes, "  Well,  and  how  are  things 
going  at  college  ?  " 

Hart  started  guiltily.  "Pretty  well,  thank 
you,"  he  replied,  "  that  is,  not  very  well,  I 
should  say." 

"  You  know,  it 's  a  pleasure,"  Miss  Hollings- 
worth continued,  not  noticing  this  last  remark, 
"  to  meet  a  man  who  has  come  to  college  in- 
tending to  be  earnest.  I  am  sure  you  have, 
and  that  you  will  succeed." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Hart,  bowing  his  head. 

"  Most  young  men  don't  know  what  they  go 
there  for,  "  the  girl  went  on.  "  I  'm  sure  Ken- 
more  has  not  learned,  and  he  's  been  there  three 
years,  almost.  You  are  working  very  hard?  " 

Hart  paused  before  replying,  but  he  was 
saved  the  trouble,  for  Miss  Hollingsworth 
asked  another  question.  "  Do  you  like  this 
opera?"  she  inquired. 

"  I  never  heard  one  before,"  Hart  answered 
frankly,  "  and  really  I  could  not  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  it, — I  think  so  many  things.  You 
know,  it  may  seem  very  strange,  but  it 's  real  to 


206  A  Princetonian. 

me,  and  perfectly  natural  for  them  to  sing  in- 
stead of  talking." 

"  I  wish  the  people  would  not  do  any 
talking,"  Miss  Hollingsworth  said  laughing. 
"  Those  next  to  us  are  perfect  chatter-boxes." 

"  You  don 't  mean  to  say  they  talk  while 
the  music  is  going  on  ?  "  Hart  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Bless  me,  yes,"  was  the  answer.  "  That 's 
when  they  do  most  of  it." 

Hart  felt  himself  plucked  by  the  sleeve  at 
this  moment.  Danforth  was  about  to  leave  the 
box.  The  lights  suddenly  dimmed. 

"  I  must  be  saying  good-bye,"  he  murmured, 
half  afraid  to  extend  his  hand,  but  Miss 
Hollingsworth  put  her  white-gloved  palm  out 
invitingly. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  You  must  work 
very  hard — when  you  get  back,  you  know." 

It  was  almost  a  little  note  of  warning  or 
advice — kindly  and  well  spoken — but  it  caused 
a  great  sensation  to  well  up  in  Hart's  bosom. 
Danforth  ran  his  arm  through  his  and  they  left 
the  box  together. 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  quite  an  impression 
with  the  '  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely  tall.' " 


A  Change  of  Purpose.  207 

Hart  could  have  strangled  him,  but  he  held 
his  peace. 

"How  long  does  this  thing  last?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  Oh,  two  or  three  hours;  why?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  stay  it  out,"  replied 
Hart,  stopping  suddenly,  and  drawing  away. 
"  I  think  I  '11  take  the  owl  train  back  to 
Princeton." 

"  The  devil  you  will,"  Danforth  exclaimed, 
"  and  leave  me  in  the  lurch.  You  're  a  fine 
one!  You  know  you  said  you  would " 

"  I  know  what  I  said,"  Hart  answered  an- 
grily ;  "  but  I  lied,  thank  God.  I  *m  going 
back,  that  's  all." 

He  drew  an  old  silver  watch  out  of  his  trou- 
sers pocket  and  looked  at  the  time. 

"  Do  as  you  like,  of  course,"  Danforth  re- 
plied, "  but  don't  be  a  fool." 

"  I  Ve  been  one  long  enough,"  was  the 
answer. 

Danforth  smiled  and  led  the  way  down  the 
aisle.  Hart  found  his  hat  and  before  the  senior 
could  stop  him,  he  had  turned  and  hurried 
away.  He  did  not  put  on  his  overcoat  until 
he  had  reached  the  street.  Half  an  hour 


208  A  Princetonian. 

later  he  was  pacing  the  over-heated  waiting- 
room  in  the  ferry-house.  There  was  yet  an 
hour  before  the  train  that  he  had  to  take  would 
leave.  A  big  fight  was  going  on  within  him, 
but  slowly  and  firmly  a  determination  was 
being  formed.  Come  what  might,  the  best  of 
life,  the  highest  aims  were  his,  to  gain  the  first, 
the  last  was  needed  ;  aim  high  he  would  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

COMMENCEMENT. 

THE  day  after  Hart's  trip  to  New  York,  he 
overtook  Heaphy  on  the  campus.  The  latter 
was  walking  straight  ahead,  very  fast,  with  one 
shoulder  slightly  higher  than  the  other ;  a  big 
book  was  under  his  arm,  he  had  just  come  from 
the  library. 

"  Hold  on,  there ! "  Hart  shouted  after 
him. 

Heaphy  wheeled  and  stopped. 

"  Are  you  going  on  the  Glee  Club  trip  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  Hart  joined  him  and  started  walking 
forward. 

"  No,  too  much  work  to  do." 

"  Eh  ?  "  exclaimed  Heaphy  in  astonishment. 
"  I  thought  you  said  that  pleasure  and  in- 
terest  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  what  I  said — look  here,  you 
know  what  the  fellows  call  you,  don't  you?  " 
209 


2io  A  Princetonian. 

"  '  The  young-man-with-a-purpose,'  "  respond- 
ed Heaphy  grimly.  "  I " 

"  That 's  just  it,"  Hart  repeated  ;  "  the  '  young- 
man-with-a-purpose,' — I  'm  another." 

"  Good,"  said  Heaphy ;  "  I  would  n't  be 
ashamed  of  it.  I  'm  not." 

He  beamed  on  Hart  as  he  spoke,  and  gave 
him  a  tap  on  the  shoulder.  Then  he  turned 
and  entered  the  college  book-store.  Newton 
slowed  his  gait,  then  he  stood  for  a  minute 
with  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets.  All  at 
once  he  saw  that  someone  was  approaching 
him.  Looking  up,  he  perceived  that  it  was 
Danforth.  A  tremendous  splay-footed  mastiff 
dog  accompanied  him.  The  beast  represented 
nothing  but  expense  and  a  blue  ribbon,  but 
Danforth  had  taught  him  one  trick — that  of 
drinking  beer.  The  dog  was  a  drunkard  ! 

"  Look  here  !  "  Danforth  cried  as  he  came 
nearer,  "  what  did  you  get  wheels  in  your  head 
about  last  night,  and  tear  off  like  that  ?  I  had 
a  great  time !  I  went  to  John's  and  struck  it 
rich  ;  made  a  cool  five  hundred  on  the  wheel. 
See  what  you  missed ;  you  might  have  been  on 
velvet  to-day,  old  chap." 

The  only  reply  Hart  gave  to  this  was  a  lifting 
of  his  eyebrows. 


Commencement.  2 1 1 

"  Humph,"  he  ejaculated  ;  "  I  'm  glad  I  came 
back,  nevertheless." 

"  Come  up  to  my  room  to-night,"  Danforth 
went  on ;  "  we  are  going  to  have  something 
there,  something  that  will  set  you  up." 

"  Sorry  I  can't,"  Hart  replied.  "  I  Ve  got 
too  much  work  to  do." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  don't  get  sour-ball." 

"  I  'm  not,"  Hart  responded  quickly. 

"  Well,  don't  get  mad  about  it." 

"  I  'm  not  mad,  either ;  don't  think  that  for 
a  minute." 

There  was  a  smile  on  his  face  as  he  spoke 
that  was  difficult  for  the  senior  to  fathom. 

"  Well,  so  long,"  he  said. 

"  So  long,"  Hart  answered,  and  they  parted, 
Danforth  going  over  toward  the  street  and 
Hart  making  his  way  in  the  direction  of  Ed- 
wards' Hall. 

On  the  way  down  the  walk  he  picked  up 
Terence  Golatly. 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  Hart  called,  "  come  down  to 
my  room  and  let  's  pole  our  Greek." 

"  Bells — bells !  "  exclaimed  Terence.  "  Is  that 
the  next  recitation  ?  " 

But  he  came  along  nevertheless,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  the  term,  Terence  showed  that 


212  A  Princetonian. 

afternoon  that  he  knew  a  little  something  about 
Greek. 

The  days  sped  by ;  spring  soon  laid  her  fair 
hands  on  everything.  The  end  of  the  college 
year  was  approaching,  a  year  that  had  been 
put  to  good  advantage  by  some,  misspent  by 
others,  that  had  drifted  over  the  heads  of 
many,  and  was  gone  before  they  realized 
it. 

It  was  a  fine,  warm  day  ;  the  grass  was  a 
vivid  green  ;  orioles  whistled  in  the  branches 
of  the  elms,  and  robins  tugged  determinedly  at 
the  fat  worms  that  crept  to  the  surface  of 
the  sod. 

For  many  nights  the  seniors  had  been  sing- 
ing, grouped  about  the  two  placid  lions  on  the 
steps  of  Old  North.  Examinations  were  on. 
Pale,  nervous  youths,  who  had  sat  up  over 
coffee  and  syllabi  over  night,  discussed  their 
chances  of  getting  through.  Others,  with  the 
mark  of  the  student,  the  "  poler  "  in  college 
parlance,  wore  looks  of  self-contentment. 
There  was  a  deal  of  calling  and  shouting,  not- 
withstanding, and  much  ball-tossing  and  bat- 
ting on  the  open  campus. 

Jimmie  Johnson,  the  lemonade-man,  leaned 


Commencement.  213 

back  against  a  sunny  corner  of  the  old  chapel. 
Many  years  had  the  college  known  old  Jimmie, 
from  the  time  he  came  there  a  runaway-slave 
lad  long  years  before  the  students  took  sides  on 
the  great  question  of  the  war.  He  had  grown 
old  trundling  his  wheelbarrow  about  the  walks, 
and  returned  alumni,  gray-headed  and  success- 
ful in  their  outside  life,  greeted  the  old  man  as 
if  he  were  a  friend — besides,  of  course,  being 
a  functionary  of  the  University.  Jimmie  had 
done  well  from  a  business  point  of  view  this 
day,  and  his  gnarled  black  face  was  wrinkled 
into  a  contented  smile.  The  old  yellow  dog 
at  his  feet  lay  stretched  in  full  contentment  in 
the  sun's  warmth. 

Three  figures  were  approaching  along  the 
walk.  They  were  talking  earnestly  together. 
Buck  Franklin,  who  was  to  lead  his  class  in  the 
commencement  exercises,  wore  rather  a  sad, 
abstracted  look  on  his  strong,  square-jawed 
face,  and  Hart,  who  was  walking  at  his  right- 
hand,  had  somehow  caught  the  reflection  of  his 
mood.  Bliss  was  talking. 

"  I  think  it  's  rather  a  bit  harder  on  the 
juniors  than  on  the  seniors  themselves,"  he 
said,  "  that  is,  to  see  one's  friends  leave,  don't 


214  A  Princetonian. 

you  know,  cuts  one  up  more  than  doing  the 
leaving." 

"  Well,  I  hate  to  say  good-bye  to  you  all," 
said  Buck,  looking  about  him.  "  You  have 
no  idea  what  a  grip  the  love  of  a  place,  the 
affection  for  associations,  takes  hold  on  a  man. 
There  are  some  things  you  seldom  value 
properly  until  you  are  about  to  lose  them." 

"  You  can  always  come  back,  you  know," 
said  Ned. 

"  I  should  hate  to  think  I  could  n't,  or  that  I 
did  not  wish  to,"  Franklin  responded.  "  But  it 
won't  be  the  same.  Now,  old  Pop  here  has 
three  years  more  of  it." 

Hart  looked  up.  "  I  don't  know  about 
that,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  Honestly  I  hope  so, 
but " 

"  Oh,  pshaw,"  put  in  Ned,  "  that  's  all  non- 
sense. You  spoke  about  leaving  way  back 
last  fall,  but  you  did  n't." 

"  That  's  true,"  repeated  Hart,  "  I  did  n't." 

Then  he  relapsed  into  silence.  The  three 
had  stopped  before  Jimmie  Johnson's  wheel- 
barrow. 

"  Jimmie,"  cried  Ned,  turning  suddenly, 
"  what  's  the  best  class  in  college  ?  " 


Commencement.  2 1 5 

"  I-I-I-I  d-d-d-o-o-n't  know,  seh.  A-a-a-11 
g-o-ood,  seh ;  h-h-h-ta-te  to  see  'm  go-go-go-, 
seh." 

Jimmie's  stutter  had  no  duplicate  in  the 
world,  and  he  was  a  diplomat.  His  reply  had 
the  desired  result.  Franklin  felt  compelled  to 
treat  the  rest  to  the  weak  concoction  that 
Jimmie  insisted  was  "  1-1-1-lemonade,  seh." 

A  brass-band  was  playing  some  popular  airs 
out  on  the  front  campus,  and  many  young  men 
dressed  in  the  garb  of  the  graduating  class 
(that  had  adopted  the  cap  and  gown  as  a  mark 
of  seniority)  were  walking  to  and  fro,  accom- 
panied by  proud  mothers  or  fathers,  little 
brothers,  or  sisters  (or  some  other  fellows' 
sisters),  and  Ned,  spying  a  girl  he  knew,  ran 
off  and  left  Hart  and  Franklin  standing 
alone. 

"You  have  not  any  people  down  here  to  see 
you  graduate,  have  you  ?  "  asked  the  former. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer.  "  Father  wrote  he 
could  n't  leave  the  farm." 

"  Are  you  going  back  there  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  Oh  !  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  Buck 
answered,  "  I  Ve  had  a  bit  of  good  luck.  Got 
a  chance  to  teach  this  summer,  and  a  good 


216  A  Princetonian. 

offer  of  a  position  at  Pottstown  Academy  in 
the  fall.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Hart  chivied  a  bit  of  stone  around  with  the 
toe  of  his  boot. 

"  Look  here,  Buck,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  going  to 
tell  you  something, — I  don't  know  what  I  'm 
going  to  do.  I  '11  have  to  do  something,  and, 
tell  the  truth,  I  'm  in  a  pretty  bad  hole. 
There  's  no  use  of  my  going  West  again — and 
I  don't  want  to  anyhow.  I  've  been  trying 
to  look  for  some  work  here.  Now,  I  don't 
suppose  I  could  get  a  job  on  your  father's 
farm,  could  I  ?  " 

"  It  's  a  little  bit  of  a  place  and  my  brother 
is  up  there  with  him,"  Franklin  answered. 
"  Really  I  'm  sorry.  But  hold  on,  I  know  of  a 
job  for  you  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Hart  asked  eagerly. 

"You  remember,  I  told  you  that  last  sum- 
mer I  worked  on  a  surveying  party  up  in  New 
York  state  ;  well,  I  have  a  chance  to  go  on  there 
again.  But  of  course  I  won't.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  the  business?" 

"  I  carried  the  rod  for  our  county  surveyor 
out  in  Nebraska,"  Hart  answered,  "  and  I  know 
something  about  levelling." 


Commencement.  2 1 7 

"Just  the  man,"  Franklin  replied.  "You  '11 
fill  the  bill.  I  '11  tell  you  more  about  it  later. 
Hello,  the  exercises  will  begin  pretty  soon ;  I 
think  I  'd  better  run  and  get  my  mantle  on  my 
shoulders." 

Franklin  was  class-orator  at  the  coming  ex- 
ercises, and  as  the  campus  and  the  amphi- 
theatre around  the  old  piece  of  ordnance  was 
filling  up  with  the  chattering  and  perspiring 
crowd,  there  were  a  few  minutes  to  spare. 

Few  of  the  freshman  class  were  still  remaining 
at  Princeton.  Returned  alumni  with  their  class 
numerals  on  badges  fluttering  from  the  lapels 
of  their  coat,  attired  again  in  the  easy  habili- 
ments of  undergraduates,  wandered  about, 
seeming  to  have  caught  all  the  old  spirit  of 
the  college  life.  But  the  occasion  suggested 
many  thoughts  to  Hart.  To  continue  here 
until  his  own  four  years  were  up,  to  leave  with 
what  honors  he  could  gain,  with  the  stamp  of 
the  college  man  upon  him,  and  his  alma  mater's 
approval  and  godspeed  in  the  shape  of  a  roll  of 
parchment — all  these  ambitions  had  become 
part  of  his  firm  determination. 

Danforth  and  he  had  seen  nothing  of  one 
another  since  the  day  in  the  early  spring  when 


2 1 8  A  Princetonian. 

they  had  parted  at  the  corner  of  the  quad- 
rangle. He  had  recognized  the  senior's  abso- 
lute selfishness,  and  while  he  yet  acknowledged 
the  fascination  of  his  personality,  he  had  pur- 
posely avoided  him,  for  his  companionship  had 
profited  him  nothing.  Danforth  had  not  staid 
in  Princeton  after  the  awarding  of  the  diplomas, 
and  there  were  few  of  his  classmates  who  missed 
his  presence.  His  pronounced  self-worship  had 
precluded  his  gaining  anything  worth  the  name 
of  friendship,  and  besides  he  did  not  wish  to 
stand  the  arraignment  before  the  censor's  plat- 
form. Without  the  least  bitterness,  devoid  of 
regret  or  sorrow,  he  had  packed  up  his  belong- 
ings, and  left  by  the  morning  train  with  only 
Hiram  his  servant,  and  Sharkey  Sprague  to  see 
him  off.  Hart  had  passed  him  on  his  way  to 
the  station,  but  Danforth  had  not  even  given 
him  a  nod. 

Heaphy  had  left  also  some  days  before,  and 
Hart  felt  very  lonely,  despite  his  elation  at 
Franklin's  encouraging  promise.  He  seated 
himself  on  one  of  the  benches  under  the  elms, 
and  thought  over  the  college  year  just  ended. 
Much  had  happened,  and  much  had  he  learned. 
The  remembrance  of  the  kindly  glance  of  the 


Commencement.  2 1 9 

gray  eyes  that  had  haunted  him,  the  friendly 
grasp  of  the  hand,  and  the  words  that  had 
aroused  the  best  part  of  him,  all  this  he  called 
back  to  his  mind.  Although  she  did  not  know 
it,  she  had  been  the  great  impulse  and  influence 
of  his  life,  and  his  ambition  soared  high  enough 
for  him  to  think  that  some  day,  at  least,  happen 
what  might,  he  would  tell  her  so.  It  could 
surely  do  no  harm  to  tell  her ! 

If  he  had  worn  her  colors  openly  on  his  arm, 
he  could  not  have  felt  a  greater  responsibility 
— even  without  the  idea  of  striving  for  reward. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A   SET   BACK. 

IT  was  the  last  day  of  the  month  of  August. 
One  of  those  days  whose  position  in  the  calen- 
dar might  be  hard  to  guess  from  mere  appear- 
ances. The  air  had  all  the  freshness  and  balm 
of  June,  yet  the  sky  was  crossed  by  fleets  of 
fast-sailing  little  clouds,  and  the  occasional 
breezes  that  came  earthward  had  that  peculiar 
bracing  coolness  that  suggests  the  end  of  sum- 
mer. It  had  rained  the  night  before,  and  the 
winding  road  that  stretched  from  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Hilltop  down  to  the  valley  of  the 
Coponac  River,  was  washed  into  miniature 
caftons  and  arroyos  that  trended  on  each  side 
towards  the  tall  grass  that  fringed  the  driveway. 

There  was  a  sound  of  wheels  breaking  the 
stillness,  and  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  came  a 
light  buck-board  drawn  by  two  stocky  little 
ponies  driven  by  a  tall  girl  who  guided  them 


A  Set  Back.  221 

carefully  over  the  rough  places,  chatting  to 
them  familiarly  as  she  listened  over  her  shoulder 
to  the  talk  of  a  young  man  dressed  in  knicker- 
bockers, who  sat  on  the  rumble  seat.  A  shorter 
girl  who  sat  beside  the  one  who  was  driving, 
suddenly  broke  into  a  laugh,  occasioned  by 
something  the  young  man  had  been  saying. 

The  laugh  was  checked  suddenly,  for  the 
ponies  shied  without  warning  sharply  to  the  left 
just  as  the  bushes  were  parted,  and  a  figure 
stepped  out  into  the  road  almost  at  their  heads. 
It  was  a  young  man  in  a  blue  flannel  shirt  with 
his  trousers  tucked  into  the  tops  of  his  boots. 
A  small  axe  was  thrust  in  the  leather  belt  about 
his  waist ;  over  his  shoulder  he  carried  a  long 
staff  divided  into  little  numbered  spaces  with 
a  movable  target  at  one  end.  The  young  man 
drew  back  to  let  the  buck-board  pass  him, 
but  the  occupant  of  the  rumble  had  jumped 
to  his  feet  holding  on  to  the  back  of  the  seat 
in  front  of  him. 

"  Hello,  by  jingo  !  if  it  is  n't  Pop  Hart,"  he 
exclaimed. 

The  ponies  were  suddenly  halted,  and  the 
girl  who  was  driving  leaned  from  the  seat  as 
she  extended  her  hand  toward  the  young  man, 


222  A  Princetonian. 

who  had  removed  his  broad-brimmed  hat  and 
stood  bare-headed  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Well !  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hart.  This  is 
a  surprise,"  she  said. 

Her  companion  nodded  and  smiled  also. 
"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  she  added  to 
the  tall  girl's  exclamation. 

Newton  had  recovered  from  his  astonishment, 
and  had  taken  the  little  gloved  hand  in  his  own. 

"  I  am  on  the  survey  of  the  new  road  they  're 
going  to  run  through  here.  Been  working  on 
it  all  summer,"  he  said. 

"  You  're  coming  back  to  play  football," 
cried  Ned  Bliss,  thumping  him  on  the  back  as 
he  jumped  to'the  ground. 

"  Going  to  try  to,"  was  the  rejoinder,  as  the 
two  stood  there  shaking  hands. 

"  Bully  for  you,  old  chap  ;  I  knew  you 
would  n't  go  back  on  us.  How  long  are  you 
going  to  be  in  this  neighborhood  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  days,  may  be." 

"  Then  you  must  come  to  see  us,  Mr.  Hart," 
said  Miss  Hollingsworth.  "  We  live  about  a 
mile  beyond  the  village.  Any  one  will  tell  you 
where.  Now,  don't  forget  us,  we  're  home  after 
church." 


A  Set  Back.  223 

The  ponies  were  getting  restive,  and  at  this 
moment  a  shout  came  from  the  meadow  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road. 

"  Hi,  there,  hoist  up !  "  some  one  called. 

"  That 's  my  level-man,"  Hart  said.  "  I  sup- 
pose he  does  not  know  what 's  become  of  me." 

"  Well,  good-bye,  old  chap,  see  you  in  two 
weeks,"  said  Ned  as  he  jumped  into  the  little 
spring-seat.  The  ponies  started  forward,  both 
the  girls  smiling  good-byes,  and  Ned  waving 
his  hand  until  they  had  disappeared  around  a 
bend  in  the  road.  Hart  watched  them  come 
into  sight  again  farther  down.  Then  he 
took  a  little  peg  from  a  canvas  bag  that  he 
carried  over  his  shoulder,  drove  it  into  the 
ground  with  the  axe,  set  the  end  of  the  rod 
upon  it,  and  began  to  obey  the  orders  of  an 
invisible  person  at  some  distance  who  shouted  : 

"  Down  a  little  ;  up  a  little;  down  a  hair, — 
O.K." 

As  he  had  mechanically  obeyed  these  in- 
structions, there  was  a  very  thoughtful  look 
upon  the  rod-man's  face,  and  after  he  had  given 
the  reading  of  the  vernier,  and  written  it  down 
in  a  little  note-book,  he  waited  for  the  owner 
of  the  voice  to  come  up.  Soon  he  appeared 


224  A  Princetonian. 

pushing  through  the  bushes  with  his  instru- 
ment over  his  shoulder. 

"Was  n't  you  talking  to  some  people  just 
now?"  the  level-man  asked,  a  keen-eyed, 
grizzled  individual  who  puffed  at  a  cheap  cigar 
thrust  well  into  his  cheek.  "  Them  people  in 
the  two-horse  rig  ?  "  he  questioned.  "  Friends 
of  yours?  " 

"Yes,  I  know  them." 

"  Kind  of  swells,  ain't  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Hart  rejoined.  "That  read- 
ing was  eight  nought  six." 

To  tell  the  truth  he  did  not  care  very  much 
for  his  immediate  superior's  society,  yet  there 
was  nothing  to  which  he  could  object  to  in  the 
level-man's  character  except  a  disregard  for  the 
rules  of  grammar  and  an  innate  vulgarity  for 
which  he  was  not  entirely  responsible. 

This  was  the  job  of  which  Franklin  had 
spoken  at  commencement,  and  since  June  Hart 
had  been  working  on  the  preliminary  survey  of 
this  branch  road.  As  his  expenses  were  paid, 
he  had  managed  to  save  up  enough  money  he 
hoped  to  tide  him  through  the  next  college 
term  with  the  aid  of  close  economy. 

The  members  of   the  surveying  party  were 


A  Set  Back.  225 

encamped  at  a  small  farm-house  about  two 
miles  from  Hilltop,  down  in  the  valley  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  willow-bordered  banks  of 
the  river.  The  next  day  after  the  meeting  on 
the  roadside  was  Sunday,  a  day  that  Hart  usu- 
ally spent  reading  in  the  shade  or  following  the 
occupation  of  the  gentle  Izaak  Walton,  tramping 
with  rod  in  hand,  along  one  of  the  numerous 
trout  streams  that  abounded  in  the  country- 
side through  which  the  preliminary  survey  had 
been  running.  This  morning  he  changed  the 
usual  manner  of  spending  the  day  of  rest.  He 
brushed  his  clothes  carefully,  put  on  a  white 
shirt,  and  started  up  the  hill  toward  the 
village. 

The  church  bells  were  ringing  as  he  reached 
the  summit,  and  at  Hilltop  they  rang  after  a 
fashion  of  their  own.  The  buildings  of  worship 
of  the  various  denominations  all  stood  about  a 
central  square,  or  park,  in  the  middle  of  which 
rose  a  soldiers'  monument  of  granite,  topped 
by  the  traditional  caped  figure  leaning  on  a 
musket.  Not  far  away  a  lofty  flagstaff  rose 
above  the  branches  of  the  trees. 

The  Congregational  church  on  the  north  side 
of  the  square,  rang  first ;  its  stroke  was  leisurely 


226  A  Princetonian. 

answered  by  the  bell  in  the  tower  of  the  hand- 
some Episcopalian  church  on  the  east ;  then 
the  Baptist  church  struck  in  on  time,  if  not 
exactly  on  the  proper  chord.  Again  the  tolling 
started  at  the  north,  and  swept  around  the 
square.  It  was  much  better  than  if  they  had 
all  ding-donged  it  at  once,  like  rivals,  each  call- 
ing attention  to  themselves.  The  decorous- 
ness  of  the  proceeding,  and  the  rather  musical 
effect,  accorded  better  with  the  spirit  of  the  day 
and  the  idea  of  Christian  harmony. 

Hart  had  never  been  a  church-going  indi- 
vidual ;  his  ideas  upon  religion  might  be  de- 
scribed as  being  rather  chaotic.  The  sermons 
in  the  chapel  at  Princeton  he  had  classed  as 
belonging  to  one  of  two  kinds,  the  dull  or  the 
interesting,  as  the  case  might  be.  He  had  no 
religious  opinions  he  admitted,  but  had  the  re- 
spect for  the  real  evidences  of  them  in  others 
that  every  just-minded,  honest-hearted  man  pos- 
sesses. It  had  hurt  him,  although  he  knew  not 
why,  to  hear  Danforth  whose  knowledge  of  the 
Bible  itself,  was  by  no  means  small,  declare 
that  "  religion  was  a  crutch  for  lame  minds." 
He  had  frankly  declined  to  allow  this  topic  to 
enter  into  their  discussion  by  stating  that  as  he 


A  Set  Back.  227 

knew  nothing  about  it,  there  was  no  use  saying 
anything. 

In  some  way  the  peacefulness  of  the  scene, 
the  sounds  of  the  bells,  the  whole  tone  of  the 
day,  struck  him  forcibly,  and  a  temptation 
seized  him  to  enter  the  nearest  church,  which 
was  the  small  Gothic  building  that  looked  more 
ornate  and  yet  more  aged  than  the  trim,  white 
barn-like  structures  on  either  hand. 

Crossing  the  corner  of  the  square  he  passed 
through  the  iron  gates,  and  was  standing  there 
irresolutely  in  the  vestibule  when  some  one 
touched  him  on  the  elbow. 

"  Hallo,  old  chap,"  said  a  voice  in  a  church 
whisper,  "come  in  with  us!  If  there  isn't 
room  in  our  pew  there  always  is  in  the  one 
ahead." 

It  was  Ned  Bliss  and  with  him  were  all  of 
the  Bliss  family  ;  little  Mrs.  Bliss  smiled  be- 
nignly, and  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hart," 
in  a  very  concise  whisper."  Mr.  Bliss  mumbled 
something  beneath  his  breath  as  he  shook 
hands,  while  the  young  lady  nodded  in  a  very 
friendly  fashion. 

The  church  was  crowded  and  as  the  party 
filed  into  the  little  pew,  it  was  seen  that  it 


228  A  Princetonian. 

already  had  two  occupants ;  there  was  scarcely 
room  for  either  Ned  or  Hart.  This  the  former 
saw  at  a  glance,  and  taking  his  friend  by  the 
arm,  he  said,  "  Room  in  the  next  pew,"  pushed 
him  forward,  and  followed  after  him. 

As  Newton  sat  down  some  one  spoke  at  his 
side.  "  I  'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  a  low 
voice."  He  repressed  a  very  strong  inclination 
to  spring  to  his  feet.  The  words  sent  the 
blood  hot  to  his  temples.  Turning  quickly  he 
saw  that  Madge  Hollingsworth  was  beside  him 
— smiling  a  welcome. 

As  the  organ  stopped  playing  the  proces- 
sional march  a  stir  and  fluttering  of  fans  was 
plainly  audible,  but  it  seemed  to  Newton,  as 
he  arose,  that  above  everything  he  could  hear 
the  beating  of  his  heart.  His  fingers  fairly 
trembled  as  he  took  a  light  hold  of  the  corner 
of  the  prayer-book  that  Miss  Hollingsworth 
extended.  Her  name  was  printed  in  gold 
letters  on  the  cover ;  he  could  not  take  his 
eyes  off  it  and  read  it  over  again  and  again. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  sang  the  air  of  the 
hymns  in  a  clear  soprano,  and  Hart  sang  the 
base.  A  joyous  exultation  came  over  him  as 
he  heard  his  voice  blend  with  hers.  When  it 


A  Set  Back.  229 

came  to  reading  from  the  prayer-book,  she 
pointed  out  the  responses  with  the  tip  of  her 
gloved  finger,  and  they  read  them  together. 
All  through  the  sermon,  not  one  word  of  which 
Hart  heard,  by  the  way,  he  could  feel  the  little 
breeze  from  her  fan.  Only  once  did  he  steal 
a  glance  at  her,  only  once  because  he  felt  that 
if  he  had  done  it  a  second  time,  and  had  been 
seen,  any  one  could  have  read  the  tumult  that 
was  stirring  in  his  breast.  He  could  scarcely 
persuade  himself  at  times  that  it  was  really 
she  sitting  there  beside  him.  He  hoped  that 
the  service  would  be  prolonged  indefinitely, 
for  he  knew  that  it  would  be  only  with  an  effort 
that  he  could  appear  cool  and  politely  indif- 
ferent in  the  way  he  knew  he  should  be.  He 
made  up  his  mind,  however,  to  inform  her  that 
it  was  his  intention  when  he  started  for  Hilltop 
that  morning  to  call  on  her. 

At  last  the  service  came  to  an  end.  The 
white  surpliced  young  minister  glided  neatly 
out  of  the  chancel,  the  organist  began  a  rather 
loud  march  as  if  he  were  rejoicing  that  it  was 
all  over  and  that  he  could  go  home  to  his  noon- 
day meal.  People  nodded  to  one  another,  and 
there  was  the  rustle  of  rising  everywhere. 


230  A  Princetonian. 

Miss  Holligsworth  turned  and  spoke  to  him. 

"  It  was  quite  a  surprise  to  see  you  this 
morning,"  she  said,  glancing  up  at  him. 

"  It  was  very  fortunate  for  me,"  he  replied, 
and  at  this  moment  Ned  pulled  him  by  the 
coat ;  Newton  turned  to  him,  and  Miss  Hol- 
lingsworth  went  out  the  other  end  of  the  pew 
into  the  side  aisle  which  was  not  so  crowded. 
Hart  thought  at  first  of  following  her  but  Ned 
was  talking  to  him. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  old  man,  that  I  can't  ask  you  to 
luncheon  to-day  with  us ;  we  live  at  the  hotel 
but  we  are  all  going  to  stop  at  my  uncle's  here 
nearer  the  village.  Can't  you  come  up  to- 
morrow and  take  pot-luck  with  us  ?  " 

They  were  slowly  going  down  the  aisle. 
Hart  did  not  remember  what  he  replied  to 
Ned's  invitation,  his  mind  was  so  busy  think- 
ing how  he  could  see  Madge  again.  But 
Bliss's  next  words  rang  well  with  his  thoughts. 

"Why  don't  you  walk  out  to  the  Hollings- 
worth's  and  call  ?  You  're  sure  to  find  them 
all  in  just  now.  It  isn't  more  than  ten  min- 
utes' jog.  Jove !  did  n't  she  look  stunning. 
The  finest  girl  I  know,  by  all  long  odds." 

Hart  looked  down  at  his  companion.     They 


A  Set  Back.  231 

had  just  emerged  into  the  sunlight,  and  why 
he  asked  the  question  he  did,  he  could  not 
have  told  to  save  him.  "  You  're  in  love  with 
her,  then  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  strange  cold  feel- 
ing coming  over  him,  and  his  eyes  searching 
Ned's  features  eagerly. 

The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Loved  her  all  my  life,"  he  answered,  "  but 
that  does  n't  count.  She  's  going  to  be  a  sister 
to  me,  don't  you  know.  Same  old  story.  There 
she  is  now,  driving  off  with  Ray  Danforth  ; 
he  's  trying  to  make  all  the  running  in  that 
quarter." 

The  smirk  on  Ned's  face  would  have  shown 
that  he  thought  Danforth's  chances  were  not  of 
the  best,  but  Hart  looked  around  quickly  just 
in  time  to  see  Miss  Hollingsworth  settle  herself 
in  the  seat  of  a  trim  Tilbury  beside  Raymond 
Danforth,  who  was  gathering  the  reins  in  hand 
clucking  to  a  handsome  little  black  that  evi- 
dently did  not  appreciate  the  fact  that  Sunday 
was  the  day  on  which  to  abstain  from  dancing. 

"  I  dare  say  he  is  trying  to  explain  why  he 
was  n't  in  church,"  said  Ned,  laughing.  "  He 
can  explain  most  anything.  By  the  way,  did 
you  notice  he  's  in  black.  His  uncle  died  a  few 


232  A  Princetonian. 

months  ago  and  left  him  '  oodles.'  He  's  going 
to  buy  a  place  up  here." 

The  Bliss  party  were  piling  into  a  large  pri- 
vate 'bus,  and  Ned  suddenly  perceiving  that 
they  were  waiting  for  him,  pointed  up  the  road. 

"  The  third  place  on  the  right,"  he  said. 
They  're  going  straight  home ;  chase  along,  old 
chap.  Pardon  my  clearing  out." 

It  was  Bliss's  intention  to  have  Hart  arrive 
at  the  Hollingworth's  a  short  time  before 
luncheon.  He  knew  that  Madge  would  insist 
upon  his  staying,  and  that  it  would  in  a  measure 
make  up  for  his  own  inability  to  be  hospitable. 
Hart  bowed  to  the  party  in  the  'bus  as  it  drove 
away,  and  started  walking  up  the  road. 

The  Congregational  church  was  just  "  letting 
out  "  ;  the  farmers  and  villagers  were  backing 
their  more  plebeian  vehicles  from  the  long  shed 
that  stretched  behind  it.  There  was  a  screech- 
ing of  cramped  wheels  and  much  "  whoaing  " 
and  neighing. 

After  a  walk  of  about  ten  minutes  Hart  came 
to  a  large  gate  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the 
roadway.  A  neat  little  lodge  stood  on  one  side, 
and  a  huge  oak  tree  spread  its  branches  above 
the  entrance.  The  winding  drive  led  up  to  the 


A  Set  Back.  233 

top  of  a  hill  where  a  large  stone  house  com- 
manded the  view  over  the  surrounding  country. 
He  had  seen  the  big  chimneys  for  some  time 
above  the  tree-tops. 

The  day  was  very  warm  ;  not  a  breeze  stirred 
the  leaves,  and  save  for  the  crunching  of  the 
gravel  under  his  feet,  and  the  chirping  of  the 
crickets  in  the  grass,  there  was  not  a  sound.  It 
required  some  courage  for  him  to  approach  the 
great  porte-cochere ;  he  felt  as  if  every  one  of 
the  big  windows  was  suspiciously  regarding  his 
approach. 

He  did  not  know  that  he  really  had  been 
seen  ;  but  such  was  the  fact — two  young  men 
were  standing  at  one  of  the  windows  of  a  hand- 
some wainscoted  room,  whose  principal  furni- 
ture consisted  of  a  great  billiard-table  and  some 
carved  high-backed  chairs — stag's  heads  and 
sporting  prints  were  on  the  walls. 

"  Who  the  dickens  is  it  ?  "  asked  one  of  the 
young  men,  knocking  the  ashes  off  of  his  cigar- 
ette. Then,  before  his  companion  could  reply, 
he  added  :  "  By  jove,  it  's  Pop  Hart,  from 
Princeton.  Where  the  devil  did  he  come 
from?" 

"  It  's  evident  that  he  has  come  to  make  a 


234  A  Princetonian. 

call ;  he  's  dressed  in  his  best  suit  of  clothes," 
was  the  answer.  "  You  did  n't  ask  him,  did 
you,  Ken  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  's  probably  come  to  see  Madge. 
She  thinks  he  's  hot  stuff.  You  know,  I  thought 
you  and  he  were  very  thick." 

"  Oh,  I  had  some  fun  drawing  him  out," 
Danforth  responded,  "  and  found  he  was  an 
earnest  ass,  that  's  all.  Got  to  bore  me  pretty 
much.  I  suppose  she  will  see  him." 

Just  then  the  sound  of  some  one  playing  the 
piano  came  from  one  of  the  rooms  not  far 
away. 

"  I  '11  bet  she  don't,"  Kenmore  answered, 
stepping  to  the  door.  "  I  '11  fix  it  with  Hawk- 
ins." 

The  following  conversation  in  a  low  voice 
came  from  the  hallway  : 

"  Hawkins,  if  that  young  man  who  is  coming 
up  asks  for  me,  tell  him  I  'm  out.  If  he  asks 
for  Miss  Madge,  tell  him  she  's  out.  If  he  asks 
for  anybody,  tell  him  they  're  all  out." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

There  came  a  ring  at  the  bell.  "  Fixed  that," 
said  Hollingsworth,  coming  back  to  the  billiard- 
room. 


A  Set  Back.  235 

Somehow  all  this  seemed  to  give  Danforth 
much  pleasure. 

Two  minutes  later  Hart  was  crunching  his 
way  down  the  gravel  drive  towards  the  gates. 
Angry  and  bitter  feelings  rankled  within  him. 
The  conduct  of  the  pompous  Hawkins  in  de- 
livering his  young  master's  orders,  and  his  su- 
percilious air,  had  caused  such  a  momentary 
rage  in  Hart's  bosom  that  he  scarcely  restrained 
his  strong  desire  to  pitch  the  butler  head  first 
off  the  stone  doorstep  into  the  flower  beds.  It 
was  perhaps  this  anger  that  had  prevented  him 
from  leaving  his  name,  or  may  be,  insisting  that 
Miss  Hollingsworth  was  at  home,  for  he  could 
plainly  hear  her  singing  at  the  piano. 

He  walked  hurriedly  through  the  village  and 
down  the  hill  toward  the  country  boarding- 
house.  But  he  did  not  stop  there  ;  taking  a 
footpath,  he  strode  across  the  meadow,  and 
reaching  the  river-bank,  flung  himself  down 
full  length  in  the  shade  of  the  willows. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN    HARNESS. 

CHAOS,  or  at  least  uncertainty,  might  well  be 
termed  the  keynote  of  the  sophomore  year. 
Broken  loose  from  the  trammels  of  a  freshman 
existence,  there  is  more  of  a  tendency  to  kick 
over  the  traces,  to  exult  in  new  found  liberties, 
and  to  lean  toward  an  over  indulgence  in  the 
wearing  of  college  colors,  a  privilege  denied  the 
freshman,  by  the  way,  except  when  at  some 
distant  athletic  contest,  in  which  his  alma  mater 
is  to  be  represented.  As  usual  the  fall  term 
passed  by  quickly ;  the  football  battles  had 
been  won  or  lost.  Harvard  had  been  humbled, 
but  the  standard  of  victory  fluttered  at  New 
Haven.  Yale  had  won.  Not  easily,  but  she 
had  won  Yale-fashion,  by  playing  hard,  fast 
football ;  and  despite  the  efforts  of  the  striped- 
legged,  long-haired  men  from  New  Jersey,  and 
the  great  individual  game  that  had  been  played 
236 


In  Harness.  237 

by  a  few  of  them,  Hart  conspicuous  among 
these  last,  the  battle  had  been  lost. 

Newton's  career  since  his  return  had  been 
signalized  by  hard  work  in  every  direction. 
He  was  a  first-group  man  now,  and  very  soon 
it  was  rumored  that  Heaphy  and  himself  were 
neck-and-neck  in  the  race  for  academic  honors. 
Neither  of  them  had  laid  claim  to  the  extreme 
privileges  of  his  second  year.  Hart  could  find 
no  sympathy  for  those  who  had  plunged  them- 
selves into  hot  water  through  an  inordinate 
desire  to  pay  unwelcome  visits  to  freshmen's 
rooms.  Conscientiously  and  honestly  he  had 
stuck  to  his  work,  and  the  fruits  had  been  worth 
the  gathering. 

This  does  not  mean  that  he  had  not  enjoyed 
himself.  The  merry  gatherings  at  Dohm's  had 
known  him  very  often.  His  name  was  cut  with 
the  others  on  the  top  of  the  long  stained  table 
and  his  voice  had  joined  or  led  the  choruses 
that  had  made  the  bare  rooms  ring.  "  Adam  " 
looked  at  him  with  approval,  for  mine  host  had 
found  that  Hart's  intervention  in  moments  of 
extreme  uproariousness  was  better  than  all  his 
oft-repeated  pleading  of,  "  Chentleman,  chen- 
tlemen,  please  keep  kviet,  or  I  shol  loose  my 
license." 


238  A  Princetonian. 

Winter  had  passed  so  quickly  that  it  had 
changed  from  snow  to  rain,  from  rain  to  sun- 
shine, and  April  had  come  with  all  the 
green  things  starting,  long  before  one  had 
grown  accustomed  to  the  date  of  the  new 
year. 

It  was  Easter-tide,  and  a  group  of  sophomores 
on  one  fine  warm  day  strolled  across  the  campus 
arm  in  arm.  Hart  was  leading  and  Terence 
Golatly  was  following  close  behind.  In  fact  it 
would  have  been  quite  impossible  for  Terence 
to  have  followed  any  closer  for  he  was  walking 
lock-step  with  his  arms  clasped  about  Hart's 
shoulders. 

Sophomores  have  a  way  of  speaking  of  the 
freshman  year  as  if  it  were  in  the  dim  past,  and 
the  doings  thereof  were  to  be  referred  to  as 
happenings  of  their  early  youth. 

"  Will  you  ever  forget,"  said  Terence,  who 
was  forcing  the  season  most  decidely  by  wear- 
ing a  broad-brimmed  farmer's  hat  of  straw 
with  a  great  orange-and-black  ribbon, — "  will 
you  ever  forget  the  time  you  carried  me  on 
your  shoulders?" 

"  He  has  n't  played  a  real  game  of  horse 
since,"  put  in  Betts. 


In  Harness.  239 

"  Oh,  he 's  moving  along,"  said  Golatly, 
prodding  Hart  in  the  back  with  his  knee. 

The  reply  to  this  was  a  sudden  twisting,  and 
before  he  knew  it,  Terence  was  slung  across  his 
friend's  shoulders  like  a  bag  of  meal.  The  slow 
procession  across  the  campus  went  on  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred  except  that  Betts  scratched 
a  match  on  the  sole  of  Golatly's  boot.  Terence 
was  not  placed  on  his  feet  again  until  the  little 
party  had  stepped  aside  and  touched  their  hats 
as  one  of  the  professors  passed  them.  At  the 
corner  of  Reunion  the  gathering  broke  up,  going 
in  different  directions.  It  was  late  in  the  day  ; 
already  some  lights  were  burning  and  the  air 
was  growing  cooler.  Hart  stopped,  as  was  his 
habit,  to  chat  for  a  minute  with  old  Johnnie 
Degnan,  the  college  policeman.  Golatly  had 
always  declared  that  Johnnie's  get-up  had  been 
copied  from  that  of  the  comic  copper  in  a  well 
known  Bowery  farce-comedy.  Golatly  also 
declared  that  he  always  behaved  well  when 
Johnnie  was  around  for  fear  of  hurting  his 
feelings. 

"  Misther  Bliss  was  looking  for  you,  sir," 
said  the  policeman  in  a  timid  high-pitched 
voice,  with  the  softest  brogue  in  all  the  world. 


240  A  Princetonian. 

"  Sure,  he  was  shouting  all  about  for  you, 
sir." 

As  if  for  answer  a  hail  from  the  direction  of 
Witherspoon  sounded. 

"  Hist !  that 's  him,"  said  Johnnie. 

Hart  raised  his  voice. 

"  Halloo,  Ned  Bliss,"  he  launched  out  into 
the  air. 

In  a  minute  Ned  came  running  up. 

"  Where  on  earth  have  you  been  keeping 
yourself?"  he  shouted.  "I've  searched  the 
highway  and  byways.  Want  you  to  dine  with 
me  to-night.  Mother  and  the  girls  are  up  here, 
and  afterwards  some  of  the  Glee  Club  are  com- 
ing around  to  sing." 

"  I  Ve  got  to  do  some  tutoring,"  Hart  an- 
swered. He  had  been  very  successful  in  help- 
ing freshmen  whose  young  ideas  had  not  been 
taught  to  shoot  aright,  and  the  small  pay  he 
derived  from  it,  amply  rewarded  him. 

"  Well,  you  Ve  got  plenty  of  time,"  Bliss 
responded,  "  we  don't  dine  until  seven.  Come 
over  sure.  Miss  Hollingsworth  's  here.  She 
said  she  hoped  she  'd  see  you." 

"  Did  she  really  ?  "  Hart  inquired,  giving  a 
start. 


In  Harness.  241 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  her,  of  course,"  Ned 
answered,  "  but  she  really  did  ;  so,  we  '11  expect 
you." 

"  Thanks,  I  '11  come." 

At  the  mere  mention  of  her  name,  he  had 
felt  that  oft-remembered  leaping  of  his  heart. 
Was  it  going  to  be  thus  always  ?  Was  he  never 
going  to  forget  the  sound  of  her  voice  or  the 
look  of  the  gray  eyes  ?  He  walked  quickly 
away,  and  was  rather  absent-minded  during  the 
hour  of  tutoring  that  followed. 

"You're  to  sit  beside  Miss  H.  to-night, 
old  chap,"  said  Ned  to  Hart  as  they  met  in 
the  office  of  Princeton's  well  known  hostelry. 
"  Come  in  and  look  at  the  table  ;  fixed  it  myself. 
No,  by  jingo,  we  have  n't  got  time.  Here  they 
come  now." 

Hart  stepped  out  to  the  foot  of  the  stairway 
just  as  Mrs.  Bliss  and  the  little  party  descended. 
Although  he  grasped  Mrs.  Bliss's  hand  first  he 
could  see  nothing  but  the  tall,  graceful  figure 
that  stood  behind  her.  In  another  moment  the 
voice  he  knew  so  well  in  his  dreams  was  speak- 
ing to  him. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hart,"  Madge  Hollingsworth  said, 

16 


242  A  Princetonian. 

resting  her  hand  in  his  for  an  instant.  "  I 
have  a  bone  to  pick  with  you.  Why  did  n't 
you  call  to  see  me  when  you  were  at  Hilltop  ?  " 

Before  he  could  reply  Miss  Bliss  spoke 
up. 

"  Now,  please,  see  me  here,  Mr.  Hart,"  she 
said ;  "  you  need  not  to  overlook  me  because  I 
am  so  very  small." 

He  muttered  a  confused  explanation,  and 
they  went  into  the  dining-room.  As  they  sat 
down,  he  turned  to  the  tall  girl  on  his  right. 

"  You  asked  me  a  moment  since  why  I  did 
not  call  when  at  Hilltop."  His  voice  was  al- 
most trembling  with  earnestness.  "  I  did  call, 
and  they  told  me  you  were  not  in." 

"  Why,  I  staid  in  all  the  afternoon  hoping  to 
see  you,"  Miss  Hollingsworth  responded  wrink- 
ling her  brow.  Then  she  laughed.  "  You 
ought  to  feel  flattered  at  that." 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  it,"  Hart  responded 
with  such  intensity  that  he  felt  compelled  to  go 
on  in  a  quieter  tone.  "  I  heard  you  singing,  at 
the  piano,  and  knew  you  were  at  home." 

"  Why,  this  is  almost  a  tragedy,"  Madge  an- 
swered. 

If  she  had  known  of  Hart's  wild  desire  to 


In  Harness.  243 

throw  the  liveried  Hawkins  into  the  flower  beds 
she  might  have  spoken  with  more  truth. 

"Pardon  me — don't  you  like  oysters?" 
Madge  asked,  glancing  down  at  Hart's  plate. 

"  Honestly,  I  was  n't  thinking  about  them," 
was  his  response. 

And  at  this  minute  Mrs.  Bliss  addressed  a 
question  to  him  from  the  head  of  the  table. 

"  I  hear  you  are  going  on  the  Glee  Club  trip, 
Mr.  Hart,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  your  being  older 
will  keep  the  younger  ones  in  order." 

"Yes,  just  keep  an  eye  on  Kenmore  ;  I  am 
sure  he  needs  it.  He  's  going  again  as  a — what 
is  it? — oh,  yes — heeler;  so  he  tells  me.  I 
should  think  these  Glee  Club  trips  were  no  end 
of  a  spree." 

"  Often  the  case,"  said  Ned,  laughing.  "  We 
have  just  engaged  Pop  to  come  along  to  add 
dignity  to  the  basses." 

"  We  have  a  piano  up  in  our  room,"  put  in 
Miss  Bliss,  "  and  Mr.  Hart  will  have  to  sing  for 
us  after  dinner.  Are  the  rest  of  those  boys 
coming?" 

"  At  half-past  eight,  sharp,"  Ned  replied,  "  and 
Briggs  Talcott  is  going  to  bring  his  guitar.  He 
qan  play  like  a  chavo — whatever  that  is." 


244  A  Princetonian. 

During  the  dinner  Hart  forgot  many  times 
that  there  were  other  persons  present  besides 
himself  and  Miss  Hollingsworth ;  he  had  to 
"haul  himself  up  on  more  than  one  occasion  to 
the  knowledge  of  this  fact,  and  it  was  difficult 
for  him  to  keep  himself  from  turning  his  back 
on  his  left-hand  neighbor.  He  did  not  know 
it  but  he  talked  well,  and  occasionally  the  girl 
would  look  at  him  with  that  honest,  unfeigned 
interest  with  which  a  woman  looks  at  a  man 
who  arouses  her  mind  or  her  thoughts,  even  if 
he  has  not  touched  her  heart.  She  did  not  ap- 
pear to  recognize  his  earnest  attention  to  her, 
nor  did  she  know  that  a  certain  admiration 
that  she  could  not  help  but  feeling  almost 
expressed  itself  in  her  glance. 

There  was  no  purpose  in  Hart's  mind  to  lead 
to  this ;  to  talk  to  her,  to  be  near  her,  gave  him 
such  pleasure,  such  delight  that  he  forgot  him- 
self more  than  once,  as  he  had  forgotten  the 
presence  of  the  others. 

But  it  was  not  very  long  before  the  dinner 
was  over  and  the  party  adjourned  to  the  draw- 
ing-room. In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  Ken- 
more  Hollingsworth,  Talcott,  and  four  of  the 
Glee  Club  men  came  in,  and  showed  by  their 


In  Harness.  245 

actions  very  plainly  that  they  would  just  as  lief 
sing  as  not — perhaps  rather.  After  a  few  glees 
Hart  was  asked  for  a  solo,  and  although  he  would 
rather  not  have  complied,  if  he  could  have  got- 
ten out  of  it  gracefully,  he  stood  up  and  Briggs 
Talcott  seated  himself  at  the  piano. 

Briggs  could  play  anything  with  strings,  from 
a  corn-stalk  fiddle  to  a  double-stringed  theorb ; 
and  he  played  the  piano  better,  perhaps,  than 
any  man  in  college,  but  he  seldom  or  never 
played  a  piece  twice  the  same  way.  It  all  de- 
pended upon  his  mood.  But  so  quick  was  his 
ear  that  he  could  accompany  a  song  off-hand, 
quite  as  accurately,  and  often  with  a  better 
swing  to  it  than  if  he  had  notes  set  before 
him.  Hart  had  never  taken  a  music  lesson  in 
his  life,  but  he  sang  naturally  and  unaffectedly 
without  performing  any  bad  tricks. 

"  Sing,  '  Drink  to  Me,'  "  said  Briggs,  with  one 
hand  chasing  lightly  over  the  upper  keys. 

It  is  a  very  old-fashioned  song,  "  Drink  to 
me  only  with  thine  eyes,  and  I  will  pledge  with 
mine,"  but  a  very  fine  old  song.  Hart  began. 
He  had  never  sung  so  well  before,  but  Briggs 
was  in  the  mood,  and  it  may  have  been  con- 
tagious. All  at  once  Hart  looked  at  Miss 


246  A  Princetonian. 

Hollingsworth.  She  was  sitting  in  the  corner 
of  the  sofa  with  her  chin  supported  in  the  palm 
of  her  hand  ;  her  eyes  had  a  far-away  expres- 
sion in  them,  but  suddenly  she  lifted  her  head 
and  her  glance  met  his  own.  It  was  just  as 
he  finished.  Again  he  felt  that  strange  sensa- 
tion, a  sensation  of  there  being  only  two  peo- 
ple in  the  room — he  and  she.  He  walked 
directly  over  to  her.  She  had  no  compliment 
for  him. 

"  I  love  that  old  song,"  she  said,  making  room 
for  him  to  sit  down  beside  her,  but  Miss  Bliss 
came  up  at  this  instant  urging  that  he  sing  an 
encore.  He  was  forced  to  comply. 

"  I  hope  you  '11  have  a  fine  time  on  the  Glee 
Club  trip,  and  look  out  for  Kenmore,"  said 
Miss  Hollingsworth  as  the  singing  party  stood 
up  to  bid  their  hostess  good  night. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  "  Hart  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  joking  of  course,"  was  the 
answer.  "  But  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  you 
could  get  some  influence  over  him.  He  makes 
lots  of  mistakes." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  am  the  one  to  cor- 
rect him,  Miss  Hollingsworth,"  Newton  said 


In  Harness.  247 

quickly.  "  I  can't  point  to  my  own  career  as  a 
model." 

He  was  so  earnest  that  Miss  Hollingsworth 
answered  earnestly  also,  although  her  words 
might  have  gone  well  with  a  smile. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  that  you  have  been  very 
wicked." 

"A  most  kind  and  flattering  judgment," 
Hart  returned. 

"  Don't  incriminate  yourself,"  Madge  laughed. 
"  And  just  keep  an  eye  on  Kenmore.  Encourage 
him  to  go  to  bed  at  night.  There  's  chance  for 
an  example." 

Bliss  ran  his  arm  through  Hart's  as  he  crossed 
the  street. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  a  shame  if  she  married  Ray- 
mond Danforth,  after  all,"  he  said.  "  People 
are  talking  about  it." 

Hart  said  nothing,  but  Bliss  felt  the  muscles 
of  his  arm  stiffen  suddenly. 

It  was  two  weeks  later,  the  Glee  Club,  in  a 
body  were  leaving  the  Glee  Club  car  that  had 
the  same  conspicuous  banner  on  it.  Newton 
thought  of  the  time  that  he  had  attended  a 
concert  in  Omaha  but  three  years  before. 


248  A  Princetonian. 

He  was  walking  beside  Kenmore  Rollings- 
worth.  The  advances  that  he  had  made  to  the 
latter  had  not  been  taken  in  bad  part,  and  much 
to  his  astonishment  Hart  found  that  he  had 
been  somewhat  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  Ken- 
more's  character.  The  faults  he  had  were  those 
that  are  more  easily  pardoned  on  account  of 
youth,  and  Kenmore  was  much  younger  than 
he  looked  :  a  spoilt  boy  who  had  lacked  nothing 
that  he  desired.  But  his  having  entered  college 
at  so  early  an  age,  and  having  managed  to  stay 
there  with  a  minimum  of  work,  might  be  taken 
as  evidence  of  the  fact  that  his  brains  were 
above  the  ordinary,  and  this  was  true ;  he  was 
naturally  bright  and  possessed  many  qualities 
that  were  attractive.  Despite  the  irregular  life 
he  led  and  the  effect  it  must  have  had  upon 
him,  his  complexion  was  pink-white  like  a  girl's, 
and  although  he  was  not  so  large  as  Hart,  he 
was  strong  and  active.  He  could  have  made 
the  eleven  in  any  of  his  college  years,  but  he 
did  not  choose  to  train.  Danforth's  influence 
upon  him  had  not  been  for  the  best,  but  as  that 
complex  individual  had  now  left  college,  Ken- 
more  had  changed  more  than  a  little.  Hart 
had  overcome  that  uncomfortable  feeling  that 


In  Harness.  249 

he  used  to  have  in  Hollingsworth's  presence, 
and  this  in  a  measure  had  brought  them  more 
readily  together. 

The  Glee  Club  trip  was  half  over.  They 
were  to  sing  at  Atlanta  the  next  evening,  then 
at  Savannah  from  where  they  returned  to  the 
North.  The  car  just  now  rested  on  the  side 
track  at  Columbia,  and  it  was  up  that  city's 
dusty  streets  that  Hart  and  Hollingsworth  were 
walking, — talking  together  in  a  very  friendly 
fashion.  When  they  reached  the  hotel  where 
they  were  going  to  dine,  they  turned  into  the 
the  billiard-room,  took  off  their  coats  and  be- 
gan to  knock  the  balls  about.  Ned  Bliss, 
coming  in,  stopped  at  the  door  and  waved  his 
hand  to  them. 

"  Well,  Pop  's  as  good  as  his  word,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  in  looking  out  for  Ken.  He  's  rather 
let  up  on  the  cocktail  system  lately."  But  Hart 
had  not  spoken  to  Hollingsworth  about  the 
cocktail,  or  any  other  habit.  It  would  have 
been  entirely  foreign  to  his  nature  for  him  to 
have  gone  about  matters  in  that  way,  volunteer- 
ing advice,  but  he  and  her  brother  were  be- 
coming friendly ;  that  was  enough. 

After  the  concert  the  orders  were  to  return 


250  A  Prince  toman. 

to  the  car  as  soon  as  possible — the  train  started 
shortly  after  eleven  o'clock. 

Again  Hart  and  Hollingsworth  fell  in  to- 
gether as  they  left  the  Opera  House.  It  was 
raining  slightly,  and  Kenmore  opened  his  um- 
brella. Hart  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  changed 
step  to  walk  with  him. 

"  I  say,"  said  Hollingsworth  at  last,  "  I  'm 
going  to  get  something  off  my  mind.  I  served 
you  a  rotten  mean  trick  last  summer,  and  you 
might  as  well  know  it." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  Hart  asked. 

"  I  had  the  butler — well,  there  's  no  use 
telling  you,  if  you  don't  know,"  said  Hollings- 
worth, "  but  it  was  a  mean  trick,  and  I  'm  sorry 
for  it." 

"  Did  it  do  me  any  harm,  or  was  it  some- 
thing you  just  said  ?  " 

"  Neither ;  only  it  was  n't  very  nice,  and  I 
hope  I  'm  forgiven." 

"  That  you  are,"  Hart  replied,  giving  him  a 
squeeze  of  the  arm,  "  'nuff  said." 

It  had  stopped  raining  all  at  once,  and 
Kenmore  dropped  back  to  speak  to  Talcott,  as 
they  entered  the  railroad  yard. 

"  Where  the  dickens  is  our  car  ?  "  asked  one 


In  Harness.  251 

of  the  banjo  players.  "  Nice  kettle  of  fish  if 
they  Ve  gone  off  without  us." 

"  I  would  n't  care,"  said  Briggs.  "  Say,  did 
you  fellows  see  that  pretty  girl  at  the  hotel?" 

A  little  noisy  engine,  with  a  glaring,  cyclo- 
pean  eye,  was  drilling  some  freight  cars  back 
and  forth  on  a  siding,  and  a  roaring  passenger 
locomotive,  with  steam  all  up,  was  being  swung 
about  on  a  turn-table,  moved  by  two  men  push- 
ing at  the  end  of  the  levers.  They  could  just 
be  distinguished  in  the  light  from  the  neigh- 
boring switch-tower. 

"  There  's  our  car,  over  there,"  yelled  some 
one  in  advance  above  the  noise  of  the  yard. 
Hart  turned  to  look  for  Hollingsworth,  and  the 
others  were  surprised  at  the  exclamation  that 
came  from  him,  and  at  his  sudden  action. 
There,  in  the  bright  circle  thrown  by  the  head- 
light of  the  engine  on  the  turn-table,  crouched 
Kenmore  Hollingsworth,  in  the  centre  of  the 
track,  tying  his  shoe,  and  bearing  down  upon 
him  was  a  heavy  freight  car,  the  man  on  top 
screwing  the  brake  as  hard  as  he  could,  and 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Hollings- 
worth did  not  hear  him  or  the  frightened  call 
of  the  others.  The  first  thing  he  knew  he  was 


252  A  Princetonian. 

struck  a  terrific  blow,  and  felt  himself  hauled, 
or  fairly  thrown,  off  to  one  side  across  the 
track.  The  swiftly-turning  wheels,  with  the 
great  brake-shoes  squeaking  on  them,  rolled 
by,  not  two  feet  away.  He  arose  bewildered. 

"  Is  he  killed  ?  Is  he  killed  ?  "  cried  several 
voices.  And  then  Kenmore  saw  that  there 
was  a  figure  on  the  ground. 

"  Good  God  !  it  's  Pop,"  he  cried. 

One  of  the  men  at  the  turn-table  ran  across 
with  a  lantern. 

"  Pick  him  up,  you  all,  and  carry  him  into 
the  switch-house,"  he  said. 

They  picked  up  the  limp  figure,  and  in  the 
light  of  the  lantern  it  was  seen  that  Hart's  face 
was  covered  with  blood  that  ran  from  a  wound 
on  the  forehead.  But  no  sooner  had  they  set 
him  down  in  a  chair  than  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  old  man  ?  "  asked  Ned, 
who  was  sponging  off  his  face. 

"  Guess  I  'm  all  right.  Hello  !  got  a  bump 
on  the  head ! "  looking  up  he  saw  Hollings- 
worth  standing  in  front  of  him. 

"  Well,  I  say,"  he  remarked  grinning,  "  you 
chose  a  nice  place  to  tie  your  shoe."  Then  he 
pushed  himself  up  to  his  feet. 


In  Harness.  253 

Hollingsworth  said  nothing,  but  he  and 
Hart  walked  from  the  switch-house  hand  in 
hand. 

"  Ye  gods  !  what  a  tackle  that  was,"  said 
Briggs  Talcott,  with  a  shudder. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   PARTNERSHIP. 

HART  won  the  Baird  prizes,  with  Heaphy  a 
close  second.  Despite  the  statement  of  the 
latter  that  he  envied  lots  of  things,  he  appar- 
ently was  not  jealous  in  the  least  of  his 
classmate's  success.  Upon  the  announcement 
of  the  results,  he  congratulated  him  with  an 
honest  earnestness  that  proved  the  sincerity 
of  his  feeling. 

Kenmore  Hollingsworth's  remarkable  trans- 
formation had  been  noticed  and  commented 
upon  in  many  different  quarters.  His  friend- 
ship for  Hart  may  have  produced  some  good 
results — most  likely  it  did. 

At  any  rate,  the  parting  that  took  place  in 
June  when  Ned  Bliss  and  Hollingsworth  stood 
on  the  platform  of  the  railway  station,  showed 
how  much  their  affections  had  been  entwined 
about  the  associations  of  the  four  years  just 
ended — but  especially  the  last. 
254 


A  Partnership.  255 

"  I  woke  up  last  night,"  Ned  said  to  Hart, 
"  saying,  '  Good-bye,  good-bye,'  in  my  sleep. 
.  .  .  You  've  got  the  finest  year  of  your  col- 
lege life  before  you  now,  old  man.  I  wish  I 
were  a  junior  over  again.  But  all  good  things 
have  an  end  !  Have  you  settled  what  you  are 
going  to  do  this  summer?  " 

"  Yes,"  Hart  replied  ;  "  Heaphy  and  I  have 
got  a  job  running  a  boarding-house." 

"  Running  a  boarding-house  !  "  exclaimed 
Ned. 

"  Yes  ;  a  juvenile  boarding-house.  Heaphyt 
it  seems,  has  a  pull  with  some  paper  in  New 
York  that  has  a  Fresh  Air  Fund  ;  sends  city  kids 
out  into  the  country  to  gambol  on  the  green." 

"  That 's  what  he  worked  at  last  summer, 
wasn't  it?"  Ned  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  Hart  answered.  "  I  think  it  will  be 
rather  interesting.  Besides,  it  pays  pretty  well, 
which  is  something  to  be  considered.  Hullo, 
here  comes  Ken." 

Hollingsworth,  followed  by  a  colored  man 
carrying  two  immense  valises,  came  running  up. 
Manager  Bishop,  Tommy  Wilson,  and  Fred 
Minton  were  there  also,  looking  rather  woe- 
begone. 


256  A  Princetonian. 

"Halloo,  you  fellows,"  cried  Kenmore.  "Now, 
don't  let 's  get  glum.  You  'd  better  change 
your  mind,  Ned,  and  come  along  with  me. 
You  '11  learn  more  of  architecture  than  poling 
in  an  office  in  New  York." 

"When  do  you  sail?"  Ned  asked.  "Of 
course,  I  can't  go,  but  I  wish  I  could." 

"  Sail  next  Saturday.  See  Madge  and  mother 
in  London  for  a  few  days,  and  then  take  the 
steamer  for  India,  via  Suez.  My  cousin,  that 
Harvard  chap  I  had  down  here  last  week,  and 
who  was  'so  taken  with  the  place,  don't  you 
know,  old  fellow,'  is  going  with  me.  I  '11  be 
back  in  less  than  a  year, — and  Pop,  old  boy,  I 
want  to  find  you  right  down  here  in  this  little 
burgh,  pushing  things  along. 

"  I  hope  you  will,"  Hart  answered.  Then  he 
and  Hollingsworth  shook  hands. 

"  Remember  me  to  your  sister,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  shall." 

Kenmore  turned  to  Ned.  "  Now,  don't  weep, 
you  gaby.  This  train  is  going  to  start  in  about 
one  minute." 

All  up  and  down  the  platform  farewells  were 
being  said.  Wilson,  Bishop,  and  others  came 
crowding  up.  The  conductor  of  the  train 


A  Partnership.  257 

waved  his  hand  to  the  fat  engineer — a  cheer — 
there  was  a  grumble  of  the  wheels,  and  Bliss 
and  Hollingsworth  each  caught  one  of  Hart's 
hands. 

"  Good-bye,  good-bye,  old  boy,"  they  cried, 
and  swung  themselves  onto  the  moving  plat- 
form. 

Hart  slowly  walked  back  to  the  campus.  It 
was  all  right ;  they  knew  what  they  were  going 
to  do.  Ned  was  going  to  take  up  the  study  of 
architecture,  and  was  going  to  step  right  into 
it.  Kenmore  was  going  to  study  law  after  his 
return  from  his  trip  around  the  world.  Hart 
sighed ;  when  it  came  to  his  time  to  leave,  it 
would  mean  much  more  to  him.  It  would  be 
like  leaving  the  shelter  of  a  home  he  loved,  to 
go  out  and  do  battle  for  life  in  "the  wide 
world  "  to  which  the  class-day  orator  had  of 
course  referred. 

Now  it  would  take  a  volume  to  tell  of  the 
summer  Hart  and  Heaphy  spent  at  the  farm  in 
Connecticut,  where  they  entertained  the  hun- 
dreds of  little  guests  that  the  great  New  York 
daily  sent  up  to  them  to  grow  sunburned  and 
fat  in  the  fields,  and  to  return  to  their  mothers  in 


258  A  Prince  Ionian. 

the  sweating,  heat-ridden  city,  laden  down  with 
strange  objects — live  turtles  and  bull-frogs, 
dead  beetles  and  butterflies,  and  with  enough 
health  and  vigor  stored  up  to  carry  them 
through  the  killing  year  to  come. 

Although  Hart  never  inquired  how  it  was 
that  Heaphy  had  obtained  such  a  wonderful 
influence  with  the  paper  that  apparently  did 
not  stint  him  in  regard  to  expenditures,  he 
often  wondered  at  the  faith  they  displayed  in 
the  manager  of  the  "  Clover  Farm."  Of  course 
he  did  not  know  that  the  rent  of  the  big  house 
and  most  of  the  running  expenses  were  defrayed 
from  Heaphy 's  own  private  purse.  But  such 
was  the  fact.  Patrick  Corse  was  carrying  out 
one  of  his  own  purposes,  after  his  own  method. 

But  the  summer  soon  ran  its  course,  and  with 
a  goodly  sum  of  money,  Newton  returned  to 
college. 

The  admiration  that  he  held  for  Heaphy  had 
grown  to  a  real  affection,  and  the  proposition 
that  they  should  still  continue  joining  forces, 
came  from  Patrick  Corse  himself.  So  they  be- 
came room-mates,  and  succeeded  after  some 
manipulation  in  getting  diggings  together  in 
Reunion  Hall. 


A  Partnership.         .        259 

Hart  was  the  first  man  of  the  University 
now ;  the  great  position  of  honor  that  he  had 
neither  coveted  nor  sought,  was  his.  He  had 
been  elected  Captain  of  the  Eleven.  The  college 
trusted  him,  the  men  obeyed  him,  and  the 
Graduate  Advisory  Committee  were  satisfied 
that  the  conduct  of  affairs  was  in  good  hands. 
But,  sad  to  tell,  in  a  practice  game  previous  to 
the  struggle  with  Yale,  Newton  tore  a  ligament 
in  his  shoulder  so  badly  that  in  the  first  five 
minutes  of  the  great  game  he  was  forced  to 
leave  the  field,  and  lie  on  the  side-line  watch- 
ing the  brave  efforts  of  his  men  to  turn  the  tide 
of  misfortune  that  had  set  against  them.  Jack 
Stahl  had  twisted  his  bad  ankle  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  half,  and  was  helped,  limp- 
ing off,  to  bury  his  head  in  a  pile  of  blankets 
at  Hart's  feet,  where  he  wept  like  a  baby  and 
would  not  be  comforted. 

But  the  young  men  from  New  Jersey  filed 
out  from  the  grand  stand  at  the  end  of  the 
game,  cheeiing  as  bravely  and  loudly,  if  not  so 
wildly,  as  if  the  victory  were  theirs. 

Junior  year  is  the  happiest,  or  should  be  the 
happiest,  of  the  undergraduate  life.  Free  from 


260  A  Princetonian. 

the  petty  distinctions  of  the  first  two  years, 
surrounded  by  the  broader  horizon  of  the  upper 
classmen,  gifted  with  the  knowledge  and  judg- 
ment that  must  of  necessity  result  from  ex- 
perience, a  man  begins  to  know  himself  and 
others  ;  the  real  friendships  of  college  life  are 
made  to  last  through  life.  By  junior  year  a 
man  stands  for  what  he  is.  He  has  profited  by 
the  mistakes  of  the  feverish  sophomore  year. 
At  least  he  can  mind  his  own  business,  and  he 
should  appreciate  this  privilege  and  show  it. 
The  freshmen  look  up  at  him  with  respect,  the 
hostile  feeling  of  the  class  below  evaporates ; 
he  can  "smoke  his  pipe  and  sing  his  glees"  in 
peace  and  comfort.  With  the  grave  and  rev- 
erend senior  he  holds  his  place. 

Although  sadly  disappointed  at  the  result  of 
the  football  game,  Newton  had  lost  nothing  of 
the  college  confidence.  He  worked  hard  but 
his  room  door  was  open  to  any  one  who 
knocked  (some  did  not,  by  the  way)  early  or 
late.  He  and  Heaphy  had  not  gone  in  for 
mural  decoration.  Hart's  chiefest  treasure  was 
a  photograph  that  Ned  had  given  him,  only  be- 
cause he  had  caught  him  picking  it  up  so  often 
in  his  room.  In  it  were  Ned  and  his  sister, 


A  Partnership.  261 

Danforth,  and  a  lot  of  strangers,  but  standing 
back  of  them,  looking  squarely  out  at  one,  was 
Madge  Hollingsworth.  The  likeness  was  ex- 
cellent,  and  the  expression  was  characteristic 
of  her  ;  an  honest  smile,  without  self-conscious- 
ness or  affectation.  Somehow  Hart  could  not 
look  at  it  without  hearing  the  sound  of  her 
voice. 

During  the  junior  year  L.  Putney  Betts  had 
grown  very  sedate,  and  Simeon  Talcott  Con- 
greve  had  developed  a  literary  turn.  Terence 
Golatly  was  perhaps  the  most  popular  man  in 
college  next  to  the  Captain  of  the  Eleven.  He 
was  president  of  the  athletic  association,  Ter- 
ence was,  and  often  used  to  trot  around  the 
track  in  abbreviated  costume,  "just  to  encour- 
age the  others,"  he  said.  But  his  endeavors 
were  not  serious,  although  he  averred  stoutly 
that  there  was  one  man  he  could  beat  in  college 
at  all  round  athletics  (hurdles  preferred)  and 
that  was  Charlie  Townes.  Charlie,  who  was 
heavy  enough  as  a  freshman,  heaven  knows, 
now  tipped  the  beam  in  the  neighborhood 
of  240  Ibs.,  "  principally  avoirdupois,"  Golatly 
stated.  But  his  good-humor  had  apparently 
developed  with  him.  He  was  now  rooming 


262  A  Princetonian. 

with  Jimmie  James,  who  stood  a  good  chance 
of  being  elected  the  captain  of  the  baseball 
nine.  Jimmie  was  reckoned  the  best  first-base 
man  that  Princeton  had  produced  for  a  long 
time,  which  is  saying  not  a  little. 

The  college  year  rolled  by.  Vacations  were 
past  and  over.  Examinations  came  and  went, 
and  June  and  another  commencement  arrived 
after  a  year  of  great  prosperity  at  Nassau  Hall. 

Professor  Ransom  was  a  young  man  who  had 
taken  up  his  profession  with  enthusiasm,  an  en- 
thusiasm that  was  contagious,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  his  enjoying  life  outside  of  his  work. 
He  was  friendly  with  the  students.  His  classes 
were  well  filled,  and  he  did  not  have  to  ask  for 
attention  during  recitation,  he  commanded  it 
without  effort.  The  young  Professor  was  look- 
ing over  a  pile  of  little  white  pamphlets  in  his 
room  when  the  servant  entered  with  the  morn- 
ing's mail.  There  was  a  letter  in  a  strong  angu- 
lar hand,  in  a  square  envelope,  that  the  Pro- 
fessor opened  first.  Then  he  leaned  back  in  hfs 
chair  and  tapped  the  letter  thoughtfully  with 
his  finger. 

"  I  know  just  the  man  for  her,"  he  said  to 


A  Partnership.  263 

himself,  and  picking  up  his  pen  he  began  to 
scribble  busily.  "  Dear  Mrs.  Carter,"  he  wrote, 
"  I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  note  of  inquiry. 
I  have  just  the  man  for  you,  and  I  think  your 
boys  would  like  to  have  him  for  a  tutor.  His 
name  is  Newton  Wilberforce  Hart.  He  came 
here  a  Westerner,  fresh  from  life  in  one  of  the 
little  towns  of  Nebraska.  Perhaps  nowhere 
could  he  have  found  an  atmosphere  so  con- 
genial for  expansion  and  growth  as  he  found 
here.  He  is  perfectly  capable  of  instructing 
your  boys  in  any  study.  He  is  a  personal 
friend  of  mine,  and  I  cannot  but  add  that  he 
has  my  admiration,  as  he  has-  the  trust  of  the 
faculty.  I  should  be  glad  to  point  him  out  to 
anyone  as  a  Princetonian.  I  shall  ask  him  if  he 
would  like  to  take  the  position,  which  I  regard 
as  a  great  chance  and  shall  let  you  know  imme- 
diately. I  know  that  Harold  and  Billy  will  like 
him  as  soon  as  they  have  set  eyes  on  him — the 
idea  of  having  a  'Varsity  captain  for  tutor 
should  be  enough  ! — I  suppose  that  you  will 
pass  the  summer  at  Coverley.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  delightful  times  that  I  have  had 
there.  I  trust  that  I  will  be  able  to  accept 
your  kind  invitation  and  make  you  a  visit." 


264  A  Prince  toman. 

Having  finished  this  epistle,  the  Professor 
turned  again  to  the  pile  of  little  white  pam- 
phlets. With  a  smile  of  satisfaction  and  pleas- 
ure he  read  the  name  "  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy  " 
on  the  first  one. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

SURGIT  AMARI   ALIQUID. 

COVERLEY,  Massachusetts,  lies  not  far  from 
the  seacoast,  in  a  beautiful  rolling  country  with 
smooth,  hard  roads  stretching  between  the  lit- 
tle towns  round  about.  Fine  country  houses, 
the  summer  residences  of  wealthy  or  well-to- 
do  citizens,  are  to  be  seen  on  every  hand.  The 
large  country-club  that  stands  well  back  among 
the  trees  at  the  end  of  an  avenue,  well  indicates 
the  love  for,  and  the  glowing  interest  in,  outdoor 
sports.  Its  wide  piazzas,  on  late  afternoons, 
are  thronged  with  groops  of  well-dressed  wo- 
men. Healthy,  athletic-looking  men  are  scat- 
tered about.  The  polo  field  ends  almost  at 
the  house,  and  on  days  when  a  game  is  in  prog- 
ress, the  piazza,  is  a  brilliant  sight.  Back  of  the 
club  building,  on  the  terrace,  are  the  tennis 
courts,  surrounded  by  frames  of  wire  netting, 
and  on  the  upper  court,  one  August  afternoon, 
265 


266  A  Prince  toman. 

three  young  men  were  playing;  two  of  them 
were  very  young  indeed,  scarcely  more  than 
boys. 

"  Play  up  closer  to  the  net,  Billy,"  the  taller 
one  shouted,  spinning  his  racket  in  his  hand, 
"  that 's  where  he  lands  them  in  every  time." 

"  All  right,  I  '11  brace  up  now." 

The  shorter  lad  stepped  up  to  the  net,  and 
spread  his  legs  wide  apart  with  a  "  do  or  die  " 
expression  on  his  face. 

"  Play  !  Mr.  Hart,"  the  first  speaker  called  as 
he  served  the  ball. 

From  the  piazza  the  game  was  being  watched 
by  two  very  handsome  women,  one  of  whom 
was  shading  her  face  with  a  parasol  from  the 
slanting  rays  of  the  sun. 

"  You  know,  I  feel  a  good  deal  like  the  boys 
about  him,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  giving  her  para- 
sol a  little  twirl.  "  They  are  constantly  en- 
deavoring to  show  him  off,  only  he  won't  be 
shown  off.  There  's  something  strange,  almost 
sad,  about  him  too.  I  have  never  asked  him 
about  his  history,  but  I  think  he  has  been 
through  some  great  trouble  or  experience." 

"  You  always  were  of  a  romantic  and  imagi- 
native turn  of  mind,  Clara,"  the  taller  woman 


Surgit  Amari  A  liquid.  267 

rejoined  with  a  little  laugh.  "You  must  not 
forget  that  you  are  referred  to  as  an  attractive 
young  widow." 

"  Not  very  young  with  those  two  reminders," 
laughed  Mrs.  Carter,  indicating  the  youths  on 
the  tennis  court. 

But  to  tell  the  truth,  she  looked  young  in- 
deed as  she  spoke.  Her  black  hair  did  not 
show  a  single  touch  of  gray  and  her  complexion 
was  like  that  of  a  young  girl  in  her  teens,  while 
the  wonderful  dark  eyes  that  her  boys  had  in- 
herited from  her,  sparkled  and  snapped  with 
the  vivacious  humor  that  was  betrayed  also  in 
the  curves  of  her  mouth.  Her  companion 
looked  to  be  the  older ;  her  hair  was  gray  at 
the  temples,  and  although  she  was  very  hand- 
some, and  her  figure  was  youthful,  she  did  not 
possess  the  attraction  that  Mrs.  Carter  held  for 
the  masculine  eye. 

Mrs.  Trevellian  and  Mrs.  Carter  had  been 
rivals  in  their  girlhood,  but  the  former's  life 
had  not  been  devoid  of  trials.  She  had  mar- 
ried an  officer  in  an  English  huzzar  regiment, 
and  after  having  put  up  with  his  doings  for  a 
number  of  years  had  gone  to  the  courts  for  re- 
lief, which  had  been  promptly  accorded  her. 


268  A  Princetonian. 

She  could  yet  keep  herself  surrounded,  how- 
ever, and  expected  proper  homage. 

"  Game  and  set,"  called  one  of  the  young 
men  from  the  tennis  court,  triumphantly. 
Their  opponent  laughed,  picked  up  a  coat  from 
the  ground  and  flung  it  over  his  shoulders;  then 
he  followed  the  two  boys  up  to  the  piazza. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hart,"  called  Mrs.  Carter,  as  he  ap- 
proached, "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Mrs. 
Trevellian."  He  bowed  his  acknowledgments. 

The  tall  woman  looked  at  him  curiously. 
"  Rather  uncommon,"  was  her  mental  comment. 

"  You  're  a  Princeton  man,  Mrs.  Carter  tells 
me,  Mr.  Hart,"  she  said.  "  I  wonder  if  you 
ever  knew  my  cousin,  Raymond  Danforth." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Hart  answered,  "  I  used  to  know 
him.  But  he  was  one  or  two  classes  ahead  of 
me." 

"  Do  you  think  he  learned  all  he  knows  at 
Princeton  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Trevellian  with  a 
little  smile.  "If  so  it  must  be  a  most  remark- 
able place. — I  used  to  hear  of  his  goings  on." 

Hart  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Really  that 
would  be  hard  to  state,"  he  replied ;  "  I  dare 
say  he  picked  something  up  on  the  outside." 

"And  probably  imbibed  not  a  little  before  he 


Surgit  Amari  A  liquid.  269 

went  to  college,"  laughed  Mrs.  Trevellian.  "  Oh, 
you  don't  know  my  nephew,"  she  went  on, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Carter.  "  The  most  fascinating 
and  self-centred  individual  in  the  world.  By 
the  way,  he  is  coming  here  some  time  this 
month." 

"  I  supposed  that  he  would  be  here  when 
the  HolHngsworth's  came,"  Mrs.  Carter  replied. 
I  Ve  never  met  him,  but  I  have  heard  of  his 
being  very  much  interested  in  Madge." 

Hart  winced  at  this  little  speech. 

"  Well,  I  hope  that  he  gets  her,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Trevellian.  "  It  would  need  just  such  a 
girl  as  that  to  keep  Raymond  in  order." 

Hart  bowed  and  walked  away.  Entering 
the  Club  House,  he  passed  through  the  hall, 
down  the  piazza  steps,  and  struck  across  the 
lawn. 

So  she  was  coming  here  and  Danforth  was 
still  in  attendance !  Although  the  idea  of  his 
entering  the  lists  as  a  rival  appeared  rather  pre- 
posterous to  him,  the  thought  of  Raymond 
Danforth  winning  the  affections  of  Madge 
Hollingsworth  seemed  quite  as  much  so.  Yet 
what  he  had  just  heard  had  aroused  many  bitter 
feelings.  He  was  not  jealous  nor  envious  of 


270  A  Princetonian. 

Danforth's  position,  but  he  felt  how  unjust  it 
was  for  a  man  who  had  lived  the  life  that  he 
had,  and  held  opinions  such  as  he  had  advanced 
in  regard  to  women  in  general,  how  unjust  it 
was  for  such  a  one  not  to  let  women  know 
about  himself  in  the  same  frank  way  that  he 
proclaimed  his  beliefs  and  acknowledged  his 
mode  of  life  before  men. 

Hart  was  an  extreme  idealist ;  he  had  divided 
womankind  into  two  classes,  and  two  only ;  in 
his  mind  they  were  separated  by  the  very  light- 
est barrier.  On  one  side  were  those  so  safe  from 
a  man's  thoughts,  except  his  holiest,  that  they 
might  be  saints  enshrined.  Across  the  barrier 
were  the  others ;  that  was  all.  A  girl  who 
would  flirt  or  make  the  mistake  of  becoming 
so  familiar  that  men  might  bandy  her  name 
about  without  the  blow  of  honor  being  struck  ; 
who  encouraged  looks  that  should  make  a 
woman  shudder,  that  woman  stepped  across 
the  line,  and  left  the  saints  enshrined  without 
disturbing  in  the  least  Hart's  high  ideal,  or  his 
belief  in  the  sanctity  of  woman.  Thus  his  love 
for  Miss  Hollingsworth  had  taken  the  form  of  a 
religion ;  a  religion  that  precluded  the  entrance 
of  many  temptations  into  his  life.  He  had 


Surgit  A  mart  A  liqu  id.  2  7 1 

reasoned  that  even  were  she  married  to  another 
man,  a  thought  that  would  make  him  chill 
through  and  through  at  times,  he  could  still 
maintain  this  belief,  and  live  with  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  love  (that  he  had  told  no  living 
being)  wrapped  in  his  breast,  to  direct  him  to 
the  right  life,  and  the  fine  things  in  it.  He 
felt  that  should  she  marry  a  man  who  would 
not  treat  her  kindly,  who  would  not  appreciate 
her,  that  he  could  so  hate  that  man  that  he  might 
well  desire  to  kill  him. 

As  his  thoughts  worked  faster,  he  increased 
his  stride.  He  did  not  notice  as  he  tore  down 
the  road  that  someone  was  following  him 
closely.  But  one  of  the  Carter  boys  had 
mounted  his  bicycle,  and  with  an  amused  ex- 
pression on  his  face  was  silently  dogging  his 
tutor's  footsteps.  At  last  he  could  repress  his 
curiosity  no  longer. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hart,"  he  called,  "where  under 
the  sun  are  you  going  ?  " 

Hart  turned. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  lickity-split  gait," 
laughed  young  Billy,  trying  to  stand  still  on 
his  machine.  "  It  looked  as  if  you  were  mad 
at  something." 


272  A  Princetonian. 

"What  made  you  think  that?"  Hart  in- 
quired, forcing  himself  to  smile. 

"  Oh,  from  the  way  you  held  your  shoulders 
and  stepped  out  with  your  feet,"  the  boy 
replied  dismounting.  "  I  say,"  he  went  on, 
"  Harold  wants  to  know  if  you  won't  let  us  off 
our  Latin  this  afternoon.  We  '11  do  a  lot 
better  to-morrow." 

"  Why,  certainly,  I  never  insist  upon  any- 
thing." 

"  That 's  mighty  nice,"  Billy  laughed,  "  but 
you  do  without  saying  so,  pretty  often,  all  the 
same.  I  '11  ride  back  and  tell  Harold.  We  '11 
hold  a  meeting  and  vote  you  thanks.  You  're 
a  brick." 

He  jumped  on  his  wheel  and  rode  back  to 
the  Club  House.  Hart  continued  his  walk  at 
a  slower  pace. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PARTISANS. 

"  I  HAVE  a  message  for  you,  Mr.  Hart,"  said 
Mrs.  Carter,  looking  in  at  the  door  of  the 
library  where  he  and  the  two  boys  were  work- 
ing at  a  long  table.  "  Mrs.  Trevellian  wishes 
to  know  if  you  won't  dine  with  her  to-night  ; 
just  a  small,  very  informal  dinner;  you  had 
better  accept.  There  's  going  to  be  the  pretti- 
est girl  you  ever  saw  there.  By  the  way,  she 
had  a  brother  at  Princeton.  Madge  Hollings- 
worth  is  her  name ;  and  I  suppose  more  men 
have  been  crazy  about  her  than  about  any 
woman  I  ever  knew." 

Hart  had  arisen  when  Mrs.  Carter  entered 
the  room. 

"  I  Ve  met  Miss  Hollingsworth,"  he  answered, 
gravely,  "  and  I  know  her  brother  very  well. 
He  has  not  returned  from  his  trip  around  the 
world,  I  believe." 

,73 


274  A  Princetonian. 

"  So  I  hear,"  Mrs.  Carter  replied.  "  Oh,  by 
the  way,  Raymond  Danforth,  Mrs.  Trevellian's 
cousin  is  going  to  be  there  also.  He  was  at 
the  Club  House  this  morning." 

"  I  saw  him,"  put  in  Billy,  looking  up  from 
his  algebra.  "  He  looks  like  a  Frenchman." 

"  I  promised  Mrs.  Trevellian  that  you  would 
come,  so  don't  say  you  won't,"  Mrs.  Carter 
went  on,  smiling.  "  No  need  of  writing ;  I  'm 
going  to  see  her  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  '11  just 
tell  her  that  you  will  come  with  pleasure." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Hart,  "  I  will." 

Mrs.  Carter  had  a  way  of  taking  everyone 
under  her  roof  into  her  family,  her  servants 
included.  Perhaps  they  were  allowed  more 
privileges  than  hired  servitors  generally  are, 
but  they  certainly  appreciated  their  positions. 
She  had  been  criticised  perhaps  for  allowing  too 
much  familiarity  between  herself  and  the  peo- 
ple in  her  household,  but  it  was  a  familiarity 
that  had  resulted  in  no  disrespect,  or  imperti- 
nent assumption.  She  would  nurse  a  sick  ser- 
vant as  conscientiously  as  she  would  anyone 
of  her  kindred. 

Although  Hart  did  not  suspect  it,  he  had 
won  a  large  share  of  her  generous  affection. 


Partisans.  275 

She  was  quite  as  proud  of  him  as  were  her  two 
fine  boys.  Although  she  had  never  penetrated 
the  reserve  that  characterized  him,  she  had 
found  out  not  a  little  about  his  past  life  and 
his  aspirations.  Plainly  enough  she  had  shown 
her  interest  and  friendship.  Hart  had  grown 
to  think  of  her,  in  return  for  this,  as  belonging 
to  the  type  of  women  who  live  for  others  and 
bring  happiness  into  the  world.  This  was  true, 
for  Mrs.  Carter,  despite  a  rather  careless  atti- 
tude, had  no  thought  but  that  of  doing  good, 
and  selfishness  or  self-interest  had  been  left  out 
of  her  composition.  She  was  like  an  older 
sister  to  her  boys,  without  losing  in  their  eyes 
a  whit  of  the  dignity  of  motherhood. 

Mrs.  Trevellian's  house  was  a  very  small 
one  ;  in  fact,  she  referred  to  it  as  the  "  Band- 
box." It  was  built  into  a  side-hill,  and  the 
rooms  on  the  ground  floor  merged  into  the 
hallway  through  very  large  doorways.  But 
the  hangings  and  decorations  were  as  dainty 
as  possible.  The  treasures  that  good  taste  had 
accumulated,  and  knew  well  how  to  display, 
were  in  evidence,  but  made  no  show  of  lavish 
expenditure.  There  was  little  trace  of  mascu- 


276  A  Princetonian. 

line  suggestion,  and  but  few  evidences  of  the 
sterner  sex's  presence.  These  evidences  con- 
sisted of  an  abundance  of  ash-trays  and  cigar- 
ettes on  table  and  mantelpiece,  and  a  series 
of  handsome  decanters  on  the  sideboard  in  the 
tiny  dining-room  to  the  left.  The  kitchen  of 
the  little  house,  Mrs.  Trevellian  had  once  in- 
sisted, was  no  larger  than  the  fireplace  of  the 
Country  Club.  But  the  dantiest  of  dinners 
came  from  this  diminutive  kitchen  neverthe- 
less, and  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  Trevellian's  was 
valued  accordingly. 

As  Hart  helped  Mrs.  Carter  out  of  the  car- 
riage and  entered  the  hallway,  he  heard  the 
chatter  of  voices  rising  from  behind  a  tall  screen 
in  the  little  drawing-room  on  the  right. 

The  grave-faced  little  buttons  took  his  hat 
and  coat  and  then  turned  to  someone  who 
had  entered  from  the  outside  without  ringing 
the  bell.  It  was  Raymond  Danforth,  and  his 
surprise  at  seeing  Hart  was  ill-concealed. 

"  Well,  where  under  the  sun  did  you  come 
from  ? "  he  inquired  quietly,  extending  his 
hand. 

"  From  Mrs.  Carter's.  I  'm  tutor  to  her  two 
boys,"  Hart  replied. 


Partisans.  277 

"  Oh,  that 's  the  game  now,"  spoke  Danforth 
smiling  superciliously.  "  Soft  snap,  eh  ?  Quite 
in  clover." 

Hearing  the  sound  of  voices,  Mrs.  Travellian 
stepped  from  behind  the  screen. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  she  said.  "  We  have 
had  a  hen  party  here  for  some  time." 

Mrs.  Carter  at  this  moment  came  down  the 
stairs,  as  light-footed,  despite  her  plump  figure, 
as  a  school-girl.  The  two  young  men  stepped 
aside  for  her  to  pass  them,  and  Mrs.  Tre- 
vellian  touched  her  lightly  on  the  cheek. 

"  Late,  as  usual,"  she  said  laughing.  Then 
she  turned  to  Danforth  who  had  stepped 
ahead  of  Hart.  "  I  had  half  a  mind  not  to 
ask  you,  Ray,"  she  laughed.  "You  never 
call  upon  your  relatives." 

"A  most  cruel  speech,"  Danforth  said,  tak- 
ing her  hand  and  kissing  it,  an  act  that  be- 
came his  appearance  very  well. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hart,  I  am  so  glad  you  could 
come,"  went  on  Mrs.  Trevellian,  extending  her 
disengaged  hand  and  shaking  his  warmly.  "  I 
want  to  present  you  to  Miss  Hollingsworth." 

"  Mr.  Hart  and  I  are  old  friends,"  said  a 
voice  with  a  musical  diapason. 


278  A  Princetonian. 

Once  more  he  felt  the  gray  eyes  look  into 
his.  His  pulse  beat  fast.  Oh,  how  he  loved 
this  tall  girl !  Her  very  presence  seemed  to 
lend  a  different  atmosphere  to  the  breathing 
space  about  her.  But  he  controlled  himself 
and  asked  the  news  of  Kenmore  quietly.  Then 
Mrs.  Trevellian  spoke  to  him  in  a  way  that  de- 
manded his  undivided  attention  and  Raymond 
Danforth  settled  himself  on  the  sofa  beside 
Miss  Hollingsworth. 

Hart  shot  a  glance  at  him.  Despite  Dan- 
forth's  collected  manner,  the  condition  of  his 
feelings  was  readable  with  half  an  eye,  and, 
moreover,  his  attitude  showed  that  he  did  not 
consider  it  necessary  to  maintain  a  worshipful 
distance.  He  leaned  toward  her,  supporting 
his  head  on  his  hand,  with  his  elbow  on  the 
back  of  the  sofa.  Miss  Hollingsworth  sat  very 
straight  and  listened  to  what  he  was  murmuring 
with  an  expressionless  face.  She  did  not  pos- 
sess any  manifestations  of  nervousness.  She 
did  not  play  with  her  rings,  or  twist  her 
gloves.  Many  people  who  did  not  know  her 
had  thought  that  her  nature  was  a  cold  one. 
This  was  not  true  ;  her  balance  was  perfect,  and 
her  self-control  wonderful.  But  the  warmest 


Partisans.  2  79 

of  hearts  beat  within  her,  and  her  tears  were 
more  often  near  the  surface  than  even  her  near- 
est friends  suspected. 

Hart  found  that  he  was  to  sit  next  to  Mrs. 
Trevellian,  on  her  right.  Just  before  dinner 
was  announced  by  the  pretty,  red-cheeked 
maid,  the  sixth  member  of  the  party  made  his 
appearance. 

Count  Von  Gillig  hardly  deserves  descrip- 
tion. His  title  was  beyond  dispute,  and  his 
opinions  were  not  worth  disputing ;  but  he  was 
not  a  bad  person  to  have  at  a  dinner.  He  had 
an  appreciative  appetite,  and  a  desire  to  make 
himself  entertaining.  This  with  good  manners 
made  him  bearable  as  a  table  companion. 
What  he  said  often  excited  laughter  that  ap- 
parently pleased  him,  and  Mrs.  Carter  declared 
that  he  was  so  silly  that  he  was  absolutely  en- 
tertaining. The  Count  sat  on  the  hostess's  left, 
next  to  Miss  Hollingsworth,  and  Raymond 
Dan  forth  was  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

Mrs.  Trevellian  had  a  great  admiration  for 
good-looking  men,  in  spite  of  her  experience 
with  one  who  was  more  renowned  for  his  good 
looks  than  for  anything  else,  and  Hart's  appear- 
ance had  rather  impressed  her  the  first  time 


280  A  Princetonian. 

she  had  seen  him,  and,  now,  as  she  turned  to 
speak  to  him,  she  caught  such  a  far-away  ex- 
pression on  his  face,  that  she  rather  studied  it 
before  she  spoke  to  interrupt  his  thoughts. 
"  Scarcely  handsome,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but 
powerful."  What  she  said  was  rather  flippant, 
however.  "  Thinking  of  home  and  mother, 
Mr.  Hart?"  she  inquired. 

"  Well,  no ;  not  exactly,  Mrs.  Trevellian,"  he 
answered  composedly.  "  I  possess  neither." 

"  Pardon  me,  it  was  only  your  expression 
that  led  me  to  speak  so  foolishly,"  she  said,  a 
bit  taken  aback.  "  Really  your  mind  was  some- 
where else.  Your  reply  might  prompt  another 
question — you  suggest  that  you  are  a  mys- 
tery." 

Hart  laughed.  "  If  you  think  so,  I  will  help 
you  solve  me." 

"  No,  you  would  n't,"  replied  Mrs.  Trevellian. 
"  I  'm  of  a  curious  temper,  and  you  would 
answer  my  questions  so  cautiously,  that  I  would 
learn  nothing.  But  I  won't  begin  now  because 
we  might  be  interrupted.  Somehow  I  think 
your  forte  is  politics." 

It  was  the  year  of  a  presidential  election  ;  the 
country  was  all  agog  upon  a  question  of  a  vital 


Partisans.  281 

national  issue.  Count  Von  Gillig  had  caught 
the  word  '  politics.' 

"  What  a  strange  thing  it  is,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
never  met  politicians  in  this  country.  Do  they 
live  all  the  year  round  in  Washington  ?  Why 
do  they  hide  themselves  ?  I  luf  to  talk  politics 
but  they  will  not  let  me." 

"  Unfortunately,"  put  in  Danforth  from  the 
head  of  the  table,  "  it  is  not  considered  polite 
conversation,  Count ;  and  there  are  ladies 
present." 

"  Probably  we  would  enjoy  sensible  talk  more 
than  you  have  any  idea  of,  Mr.  Danforth,"  said 
Mrs.  Carter,  "  and  know  more  about  the  subject 
than  you  think  we  do." 

"All  women  know  more  than  most  men  think 
they  do,"  said  the  little  German,  who  very  often 
said  rather  clever  things,  as  if  by  accident — 
really  he  was  no  fool. 

"  It  is  nonsense  to  suppose  that  women  don't 
take  interest  in  such  matters,"  put  in  Mrs.  Tre- 
vellian.  "  Somebody,  I  have  forgotten  who, 
persuaded  me  to  sign  a  paper  begging  some- 
body, or  some  legislature,  or  something,  to 
allow  us  women  a  chance  to  vote.  I  think  we 
should.  Don't  you,  Madge  ? "  this  to  Miss 
Hollingsworth. 


282  A  Princetonian. 

"  No,"  was  the  rejoinder  ;  "  I  'm  very  glad 
I  don't  have  to."  She  looked  across  the  table 
at  Hart  with  a  quizzical  little  smile.  "  I  don't 
object  though  to  hearing  sensible  discus- 
sion," she  added.  "  Or  being  told  why  men 
vote  for  one  thing  or  the  other.  If  I  were  a 
man,  I  should  be  sure  to  know  reasons,  and  be 
willing  to  give  them." 

(<  Well,  there  are  no  sensible  reasons  why  any 
one  should  vote  for  the  candidate  from  the 
Middle  States,"  observed  Danforth,  as  if  that 
settled  the  matter. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Hart,  "  I  think  there 
are." 

"  Bravo,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  Tell  us  why." 

Nothing  had  been  farther  from  his  thoughts 
than  to  start  a  political  discussion  by  thus 
taking  up  Danforth's  words,  and  he  rather 
regretted  having  spoken  so  hastily. 

"  Yes  ;  tell  us  why,"  Danforth  repeated,  tak- 
ing a  sip  of  champagne,  and  leaning  forward  in 
an  attitude  of  attention. 

"  You  have  my  permission,"  said  Mrs. 
Trevellian. 

Hart  began  to  talk.     He  knew  well  the  sub- 


Partisans.  283 

ject  before  him,  and  although  he  grew  inter- 
ested and  was  earnest,  he  did  not  allow  himself 
to  become  excited  in  the  least.  Danforth  en- 
courged  him  to  go  on  by  little  questions  and 
interjections.  So  he  talked  longer  than,  per- 
haps, otherwise  he  should.  At  last,  it  came  to 
his  mind  that  he  was  really  taking  up  too  much 
time.  The  Count,  with  a  visibly  bored  expres- 
sion, was  regarding  him  through  a  single  eye- 
glass, and  at  last  he  caught  a  smile  on  Raymond 
Danforth's  face,  and  stopped. 

"  Well,  what  can  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Dan- 
forth ?  "  said  Mrs.  Carter,  to  whom  the  refer- 
ences and  general  subject  might  have  been 
Greek  or  Hebrew. 

"  Humph,"  observed  Danforth.  "  After  such 
a  fine  oration  as  that,  there  is  nothing  to  be 
said.  I  saw  your  friend,  Mrs.  Ellsworth,  at 
Newport  this  year,"  he  added,  smiling  as  if 
taking  advantage  of  getting  rid  of  the  subject. 

Hart  looked  down  at  his  plate.  It  had  not 
struck  him  before  that  a  long  speech  on  the 
political  situation  was  hardly  table-talk.  He 
saw  immediately  that  it  had  been  Danforth's 
intention  to  make  him  ridiculous,  if  possible. 
He  was  angry  at  himself,  and  angry  at  the  im- 


284  A  Prince  Ionian. 

pertinence  with  which  Danforth  had  begun  and 
then  dismissed  the  matter.  But  glancing  up 
he  saw  that  Miss  Hollingsworth  was  looking  at 
him.  There  was  an  expression  on  her  face  that 
drove  every  angry  feeling  from  his  mind.  Her 
eyes  met  his,  but  for  an  instant ;  but  there 
flashed  from  them  a  glance  of  sympathy  and 
understanding,  with  something  else  lurking  be- 
hind it,  that  might  have  indicated  a  suddenly 
awakened  interest  or  admiration.  Mrs.  Tre- 
vellian,  who  had  caught  it,  gave  a  little 
start. 

"  What  you  said,  Mr.  Hart,"  she  laughed, 
"  makes  me  wish  more  than  ever  that  I  could 
vote,  but  now  we  are  going  to  leave  you  to 
your  cigars." 

After  the  ladies  had  left,  Danforth  apparently 
ignored  Hart's  presence  altogether  and  began  a 
long  discussion  in  German  with  Count  Gillig. 
Hart  sat  silently  smoking,  and  his  thoughts 
ranged  wide.  What  was  it  all  tending  to  ? 
Where  would  he  fetch  up  ?  Somehow  he  longed 
for  the  old,  untroubled  life  that  he  had  led 
when  a  clerk  in  the  store  at  Oakland.  He 
pictured  to  himself  Mr.  Van  Clees  and  his  wife, 
sitting  in  the  little  front  room  upstairs  with  the 


Partisans.  285 

parlor  melodeon  locked  and  tuneless.  Poor  lit- 
tle Mabel !  He  had  not  thought  of  her  of  late, 
and  no  word  had  he  heard  for  three  years  now. 
What  a  strange  thing  his  short  friendship  with 
Danforth  had  been.  Why  was  it  that  life  held 
so  many  complications  ?  Here  she  was,  and  yet 
so  far  away  from  him.  He  had  hardly  spoken 
to  her.  How  hard  it  was  to  keep  from  saying 
the  words  that  kept  repeating  themselves  over 
and  over  to  his  inner  consciousness.  He  had 
finished  his  cigar,  or,  at  least,  it  had  gone  out, 
and  suddenly  arising,  he  pushed  back  the  por- 
tiere and  entered  the  next  room.  With  that 
gesture  of  invitation  that  is  really  a  welcome, 
Miss  Hollingsworth  made  room  for  him  to  sit 
beside  her  on  the  sofa. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  it  was  very  fine 
of  you  to  speak  the  way  you  did  to-night.  I 
enjoyed  every  word  of  it,  and  what  is  more,"  she 
added  with  a  smile,  "  I  think  I  understood  it. 
Do  you  know,  I  have  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
all  the  evening.  There  is  something  that  I 
have  wished  to  say,  that  I  could  not  say  before 
everybody,  because  I  knew  you  would  not  like 
it " 

Just  then  the  curtains  were  pulled  apart  and 


286  A  Princetonian. 

with  a  laugh  the  Count  and  Danforth  came  into 
the  room. 

Unseen  by  Hart  Miss  Hollingsworth's  -fan 
had  slipped  to  the  floor.  The  Count  hastened 
forward  and  picked  it  up,  bowing  extravagantly, 
and  then  standing  before  her  for  all  the  world 
like  a  terrier  dog  that  demanded  to  have  its 
head  patted.  There  was  no  chance  for  Madge 
to  finish  what  she  was  going  to  say.  She 
glanced  up  at  Newton  hopelessly,  and  just 
then  Mrs.  Trevellian  called  him,  a  summons  he 
felt  compelled  to  obey. 

But  before  she  left,  however,  Madge  found 
chance  to  say  to  him,  "  Do  come  and  see  us ; 
we  are  stopping  at  the  Inn  at  Rockcoast." 

As  Mrs.  Carter  and  Hart  drove  home  that 
night  the  kind  lady  delivered  herself  of  the 
following  little  speech  : 

"  You  were  perfectly  right  to  say  what  you 
did,  dear  boy,"  giving  him  a  friendly  touch  on 
the  back  of  the  hand,  "  and  that  nasty  little  snip 
made  me  so  mad  I  could  have  scratched  him." 

Hart  did  not  reply  as  there  was  nothing  he 
could  think  of  to  say  at  the  moment.  What 
it  was  that  Miss  Hollingsworth  had  intended  to 
speak  to  him  about,  he  could  not  imagine,  but 


Partisans,  287 

the  next  morning  after  the  lessons  with  the 
boys  were  over,  he  started  across  country  for 
Rockcoast, — a  little  collection  of  houses  on  the 
stony  shore  of  the  wide  bay.  The  Inn  was  a 
picturesque  little  building,  that,  although  it  was 
very  new  had  the  appearance  of  having  stood 
where  it  was  for  years. 

"  Miss  Hollingsworth  was  here  with  her 
mother  but  a  few  moments  ago,"  said  the  clerk, 
replying  to  Hart's  inquiry.  "  I  think  you  will 
find  them  down  at  the  observatory." 

The  observatory  was  a  small  summer-house 
built  out  upon  the  rocks,  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  across  the  road  from  the  Inn.  A  little 
stretch  of  sandy  beach  was  at  one  side  and  a 
few  commodious-looking  bath-houses  stood  in 
from  sight  at  the  bottom  of  the  little  cliff. 

Newton  caught  a  glimpse  of  some  people 
seated  against  the  railing,  but  before  he  had 
crossed  the  road,  a  tall  girl  arose  and  hastened 
down  the  steps  ;  he  met  her  on  the  walk. 

"  I  recognized  you  as  you  came  from  the 
Inn,  Mr.  Hart,"  said  Madge  Hollingsworth. 
"  To-day  is  no  day  for  sitting  still ;  let 's  take  a 
little  stroll  and  I  can  tell  you  what  I  did  n't  get 
a  chance  to  tell  you  last  night." 


288  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  Ve  been  wondering  what  it  was,"  was  New- 
ton's answer,  as  he  looked  down  at  her. 

She  lowered  her  eyes  for  a  minute,  and  then 
nodding  her  head,  she  said,  "  Let 's  walk  up 
in  this  direction,  along  the  rocks,  and  I  can 
begin." 

He  did  not  reply.  The  delight  of  being 
with  her  kept  him  silent,  and  he  waited  for  her 
to  speak  again. 

"  Mr.  Hart,"  she  said  at  last,  turning  to  him, 
as  they  left  the  road  and  took  a  worn  pathway 
to  the  left,  "  Kenmore  told  us  something  when 
we  saw  him  in  England,  so  long  ago,  and  I  wish 
to  thank  you  for  what  you  did.  He  told  us 
that  you  saved  his  life.  Mamma  of  course 
wants  to  thank  you  too.  She  has  just  gone 
out  driving,  but  you  must  wait  until  you  see 
her.  You  know  it 's  hard  to  put  one's  feelings 
in  words,  but  I  love  Kenmore,  and  I  have 
worried  about  him  very  much.  You  have 
been — " 

"  It  was  n't  anything  to  do,"  Newton  blurted 
out,  "  so  please  don't  try  to  say  anything  more 
about  it.  I  just  happened  to  see  him  first 
that  's  all." 

"  I  understand." 


Partisans.  289 

There  was  a  little  quiver  in  the  corner  of  her 
mouth  and  a  curious  shake  in  her  voice.  For 
a  minute  they  strolled  on  in  silence. 

"  You  know,  I  think  that  Kenmore  has  much 
improved  ;  I  can't  tell  exactly  how,  but  we  had 
a  long  talk  when  I  met  him  ;  something  we 
have  n't  had  for  years.  Although  he  is  older 
than  I  by  a  year  and  more,  I  sometimes  feel  as 
if  he  were  much  the  younger." 

"  I  misjudged  him  very  much  at  first,"  Hart 
returned,  "  but  really  I  soon  found  out  what  a 
fine  fellow  he  was." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked  suddenly,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  Mr.  Danforth?" 

"  I  think  he  is  a  very  uncommonplace  man," 
Newton  answered  quietly,  "  with  a  remarkable 
mind  and  a  chance  in  life,  if  he  should  choose 
to  use  it.  Such  a  thing  as  failure,  he  would 
not  understand." 

"  I  take  you  to  mean  that  with  a  strong  in- 
centive he  could  accomplish  a  great  deal,"  said 
the  girl,  pausing  for  a  minute  and  looking  out 
over  the  water,  "  and  that  his  real  capacities 
have  not  been  awakened." 

"Yes,"   Hart  answered,   "that  would  be  a 

good  way  to  put  it." 

19 


290  A  Princetonian. 

"  Just  one  other  question — it  may  be  unfair, 
but  I  trust  not — do  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  Hart  honestly,  "  I  don't." 

Miss  Hollingsworth  started  walking  forward 
again,  and  now  she  changed  the  direction  of 
conversation  without  leaving  the  subject. 

"Do  you  really  think  that  he  understood 
exactly  what  you  said  last  night,  and  just  did 
not  wish  to  try  to  answer  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Hart,  "  I  think  that's  it.  His 
answer  would  have  been  worth  listening  to.  He 
is  not  a  random  talker  by  any  means." 

"  Well,  let 's  drop  him  for  a  moment,"  said 
Madge,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "  and  talk  about 
yourself.  This  is  your  senior  year  now,  is  n't 
it  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you 
leave  ?  Don't  think  me  impertinent,  asking 
you  so  many  questions  !  pray  don't !  " 

"Think  you  impertinent  !  "  ejaculated  Hart, 
'*  if  you  only  knew — "  He  checked  himself. 
"  Your  interest  is  very  kind  ;  thank  you  for  it," 
he  went  on.  "  But  to  answer  you — I  have  not 
exactly  decided  what  I  shall  do.  I  might  do 
as  a  friend  of  mine  has  done,  and  try  teaching 
school  ;  but  I  don't  think  that  it  would  suit  me 
altogether.  I  would  like  something  else  better." 


Partisans.  291 

"  Something  broader,  you  mean,"  said  Madge. 
"  Something  bigger  than  explaining  text-books. 
I  should  think  that  you  might  make  a  good 
lawyer." 

"  That  was  my  ambition  when  I  first  came 
to  college." 

"  Have  you  another  now?  You  don't  appear 
to  me  to  be  a  man  who  would  give  up  easily." 

"  Thank  you." 

They  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  a  rock,  and 
Miss  Hollingsworth  asked  him  something  about 
a  statement  that  he  had  made  in  his  little  speech 
at  the  dinner. 

What  a  grand  pleasure  it  was  thus  to  talk  to 
her.  All  feeling  of  constraint  left  him,  and  to 
talk  to  a  woman  who  is  really  interested  and 
appreciates,  is  one  of  the  greatest  delights  that 
a  man  can  have  on  earth,  especially  if  it  gives 
him  an  excuse  to  look  into  her  eyes,  and  to 
hear  her  voice  replying  to  his.  Neither  of 
them  noticed  how  quickly  the  time  passed, 
until  suddenly  Madge  raised  her  head. 

"  Here  comes  Mamma  now,"  she  said.  "  And 
Mary  Bliss.  It  must  be  nearly  luncheon  time 
at  the  Inn." 

Hart  turned  around  and  saw  a  tall  woman 


2 92  A  Princetonian. 

approaching.  Mary  scarcely  reached  to  her 
shoulder  as  she  waved  her  hand.  "  How  d'  ye 
do?"  she  called.  The  elder  woman  regarded 
him  through  her  lorgnette  as  he  stepped  for- 
ward. 

"  Mr.  Hart,  Mamma,"  said  Miss  Hollings- 
worth,  "  Kenmore's  friend  at  Princeton." 

Mrs.  Hollingsworth  spoke  in  a  deep  chest- 
voice without  evidence  of  much  feeling. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Hart, 
and  I  suppose  my  daughter  already  has  done 
so  ;  Kenmore  told  us  of  your  brave  deed  and 
the  risk  you  ran." 

"  I  think  it  was  perfectly  splendid,"  put  in 
Miss  Bliss.  "  Ned  wrote  us  all  about  it  at  the 
time." 

"  Mr.  Hart  will  take  luncheon  with  us,  of 
course,"  said  Mrs.  Hollingsworth,  "  and  really 
we  are  quite  late  now.  We  had  better  go  back 
at  once,  Madge." 

She  started  down  the  path,  the  three  young 
people  following  behind  her. 

As  they  came  into  the  dining-room  of  the 
Inn,  Raymond  Danforth  rose  from  a  corner. 
He  greeted  Hart  quite  cordially,  but  his  pres- 
ence lent  rather  a  constraint  throughout  the 


Partisans.  293 

luncheon,  to  Hart's  mind,  at  least,  although 
Dan  forth  was  affability  itself. 

Newton  returned  to  Mrs.  Carter's  as  soon  as 
luncheon  was  over.  He  swung  along  at  a 
rapid  pace  in  high  spirits.  He  was  going  to 
see  her  again,  for  Miss  Hollingsworth  told  him 
that  they  expected  to  be  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Coverley  for  some  time.  Despite  the  hand- 
some place  they  owned  at  Hilltop,  they  gen- 
erally spent  a  fortnight  here  during  the  last 
weeks  of  summer. 

There  is  but  one  more  episode  to  dwell  upon 
before  Hart's  return  to  college  work.  A  day 
or  so  after  the  talk  on  the  rocks  there  was  a 
dance  at  the  Coverley  Country  Club.  Newton 
went  on  Mrs.  Carter's  invitation.  As  he  en- 
tered the  big  room  he  passed  close  to  Mrs. 
Trevellian  and  Danforth,  who  were  talking  to- 
gether in  a  corner. 

"Well,  I  wish  you  every  success,  my  dear 
boy,"  Mrs.  Trevellian  was  saying,  "for  many 
reasons,  and  anything  I  can  do  to  help,  you 
know  I  '11  do  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  intend  to  give  up,  you  can 
rest  assured  of  that,"  said  Danforth,  closing  his 
jaws. 


294  -A  Princetoman. 

Despite  the  smallness  of  his  features,  his  face 
had  a  certain  strength  and  determination. 

Suddenly  his  cousin  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"  Look,"  she  said  ;  "  watch  your  tall  college 
friend.  He  's  looking  for  her,  too." 

Hart's  eyes  were  searching  the  room.  All  at 
once  he  caught  sight  of  Madge  sitting  oppo- 
site ;  Miss  Bliss  was  beside  her.  They  both 
nodded  to  him,  and  he  crossed  over  to  them. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that  sort,"  said  Dan- 
forth  with  a  sneer. 

In  answer,  Mrs.  Trevellian  merely  raised  her 
eyebrows. 

"Then  you  are  not  so  clever  as  I  thought 
you  were,"  she  said.  "  I  think  she  likes  him. 
Does  he  dance?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  Danforth  replied. 

"  Well,  then,  go  over  at  once  and  take  her 
out.  I  know  Mrs.  Hollingsworth  very  well ; 
I  may  be  able  to  do  you  a  good  turn." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  friends  enough  with  the  old  lady," 
said  Danforth,  rising.  "  I  think  she  'd  like  it 
well  enough." 

With  that  he  walked  across  the  room.  Miss 
Bliss  frowned  a  little  as  she  saw  him  approach- 
ing, but  in  another  instant  he  had  placed  his 


Partisans.  295 

hand  familiarly  on  Hart's  shoulder  with  a  "  Beg 
pardon,  old  man,"  and  just  as  the  music  began 
to  play  a  two-step  he  requested  the  pleasure  of 
dancing  with  Miss  Hollingsworth.  Hart  stepped 
to  one  side.  He  did  not  succeed  in  getting  a 
chance  to  speak  to  Madge  again  that  night, 
although  his  eyes  followed  her  everywhere. 

The  next  afternoon  he  looked  for  her  on  the 
piazza  of  the  Country  Club  (she  had  said  that 
she  was  going  to  be  there),  but  she  did  not  ap- 
pear, and  at  dinner  that  evening  he  heard  that 
the  Hollingsworths  had  returned  to  town,  and 
that  Danforth  had  gone  back  with  them. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SENIOR   YEAR. 

NEVER  since  the  year  of  '6o-'6i  had  Prince- 
ton known  such  political  excitement.  Politics 
shared  with  football  prospects  the  conversa- 
tions on  the  campus.  Campaign  clubs  had 
been  formed,  and,  as  the  students  held  the 
controlling  vote  of  the  borough  itself,  there 
was  a  reciprocity  between  the  townsfolk  and 
the  college.  Hart  had  been  elected  President 
of  the  organization  that  supported  the  candi- 
date from  the  Middle  States,  and  he  had 
plunged  earnestly  into  the  work. 

It  was  growing  on  toward  election  time. 
The  college  drum-corps  and  tin-horn  bands 
had  been  out  every  night  ;  and  one  evening  the 
news  was  spread  about  the  campus  that  an 
ex-senator,  a  man  renowned  for  his  oratory 
was  going  to  be  present  to  address  the  students 
and  the  voters  of  the  township.  The  party  he 
296 


Senior  Year.  297 

represented  was  rather  in  a  minority  in  the 
borough,  and  he  was  to  speak  against  the 
platform  upon  which  the  candidate  that  Hart 
supported,  was  standing — or  "running" — for 
what  reason  no  one  knows. 

The  evening  of  the  meeting  arrived.  Hart 
stopped  at  his  room  on  his  way  up  from  his 
Club  House.  He  had  been  among  the  eight 
elected  the  year  before  to  the  club  from  whose 
walls  looked  down  the  photographs  of  many 
men  well  known  to  the  outside  world,  in  pro- 
fessional and  business  life,  and  who  returned 
to  college  to  find  in  the  little  building  among 
the  undergraduates,  the  welcome  of  fraternity. 
Heaphy  had  not  made  the  election  ;  his  strange 
retiring  disposition  had  kept  him  in  the  back- 
ground, there  were  a  few  of  Hart's  friends  who 
wondered  at  his  friendship  for  the  '  young-man- 
with-a-purpose '  who  had  been  so  often  defeated 
in  that  purpose  (if  it  were  merely  the  gaining 
of  honors)  by  his  own  roommate. 

"  Going  to  hear  the  senator  speak  to-night?" 
asked  Hart  as  he  opened  the  door  and  found 
Heaphy  poring  over  a  book. 

"  Nope  ;  I  'm  not  feeling  first-rate,"  Heaphy 
replied.  "  I  Ve  caught  a  cold  or  something  ; 


298  A  Princetonian. 

don't  think  I  '11  go.  Oh,  by  the  way  there  's  a 
telegram  for  you  there  on  the  table." 

Newton  picked  it  up. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  Kenmore  Hol- 
lingsworth  is  going  to  be  here  to-night.  He  's 
just  back  from  China." 

Then  he  walked  over  to  the  mantelpiece 
and  picked  up  the  photograph  and  looked  for 
a  minute  at  the  picture  of  Kenmore's  sister. 
Not  a  word  had  he  heard  of  her  since  he  had 
left  Coverley  six  weeks  before. 

A  large  crowd  had  gathered  to  hear  the 
orator  of  the  evening.  His  speech  was  well- 
worth  listening  to  and  frequently  applauded., 
A  less  skilful  speaker  might  have  started  a 
Donnybrook  Fair  about  him,  but  so  well  were 
his  words  chosen  that  there  were  no  interrup- 
tions despite  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm  on  the 
part  of  the  minority  supporters  who  were  out 
in  force.  At  last  the  senator  concluded,  and 
no  sooner  had  he  left  the  platform  when  some 
one  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  started  a  cry : 
"We  want  Pop  Hart  "  he  called.  It  was  taken 
up  from  all  around,  and  at  last  the  shouting 
ended  in  a  cheer.  Hart  who  had  been  listening 
attentively  to  what  had  been  going  on  shouted, 


Senior  Year.  299 

"  No,  No,"  in  as  hoarse  a  voice  as  he  could 
command ;  but  those  about  took  up  the  other 
cry.  He  felt  himself  impelled  forward,  and 
before  he  knew  it  was  almost  pushed  up  the 
steps.  The  dead  silence  which  followed  the 
uplifting  of  his  hand  precluded  the  possibility 
of  his  retiring  without  saying  something,  and 
he  began  with  a  tribute  to  the  character  of  the 
honorable  gentleman  whom  he  was  unexpect- 
edly following.  He  spoke  but  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  when  he  had  finished,  a  roar 
of  voices  sounded  from  all  around.  He 
pushed  his  way  into  a  gathering  of  his  own 
classmates  at  the  bottom  of  the  platform 
steps. 

"  I  did  n't  wish  to  get  up  there  and  spout," 
he  said,  grasping  Congreve  by  his  collar,  and 
Golatly  by  the  back  of  his  neck.  "You  fel- 
lows got  me  into  that,  and  I  have  half  a  mind 
to  bump  your  heads  together." 

Some  one  struggling  through  the  mob  was 
trying  to  reach  him.  It  was  Kenmore  Hollings- 
worth.  His  greeting  was  effusive.  "  You  old 
chump — glad  to  see  you,"  overand  over.  "  But 
hold  on,"  he  said  at  last,  breathlessly,  "  I  for- 
got. My  governor  is  standing  back  here,  and 


30O  A  Princetonian. 

he  wants  to  meet  you.  Oh,  Pop,  but  I  wish 
that  I  were  back  here  again." 

"  Did  you  have  a  fine  time,  old  man  ?  "  New- 
ton asked,  as  they  pushed  their  way  along  the 
sidewalk. 

"  Oh,  great.  I  'm  going  to  stay  down  here 
to-morrow  to  see  the  practice.  The  governor  is 
here  on  some  law  business  for  the  trustees.  Oh, 
here  he  is." 

A  tall  man  with  rather  a  military  appearance 
stood  leaning  against  one  of  the  trees. 

"  This  is  Pop  Hart,  Father,"  cried  Kenmore. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Hart  under  such 
auspicious  circumstances,"  said  Mr.  Hollings- 
worth  with  a  smile.  "  I  congratulate  you  upon 
your  speech,  sir.  I  need  say  nothing  more  after 
the  way  it  was  received.  I  shall  be  here  to- 
morrow most  of  the  day,  and  I  trust  that  I  will 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again.  Now, 
Ken,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  son,  "  I  know 
well  enough  that  this  is  not  the  hour  for  an  old 
man  like  myself  to  '  hang  about,'  as  you  would 
put  it.  So  I  'm  off  to  the  hotel." 

Kenmore  and  Hart  walked  over  across  the 
campus. 

"  Yes,  had  a  great  time.     How   do  you  like 


Senior  Year.  301 

me  with  a  mustache  ? — no  funny  remarks,  now. 
I  say,  let 's  go  over  to  your  room,  where  we  can 
chat  a  bit ;  that  '11  be  jolly,"  the  former  was  say- 
ing, all  in  one  sentence.  "  I  know  you  are  in 
training,  so  I  won't  talk  long.  You  can  fire  me 
out  whenever  you  wish  to.  Hear  you  were 
up  at  Coverley." 

When  they  reached  the  door  that  opened 
from  the  end  of  the  hallway,  Hart  took  the  keys 
from  his  pocket,  but  before  he  had  unlocked  the 
door,  the  handle  turned  from  the  inside  and 
some  one  stepped  out  to  meet  him. 

"  Hullo,  Doctor,"  Hart  exclaimed,  "  what 's 
the  row  ?  " 

The  doctor  stepped  to  one  side.  He  was 
constantly  in  attendance  at  the  football 
grounds,  and  was  on  familiar  standing  with 
the  players. 

"  Look  here,  Pop,"  he  said,  "  how  long  has 
our  friend  Heaphy  been  under  the  weather?" 

"  Two  or  three  days.  It  's  nothing  serious, 
is  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  alarm  you,"  the  doc- 
tor replied,  "  but  probably  I  shall,  nevertheless. 
It  's  scarlet  fever,  to  my  thinking.  Have  you 
been  with  him  much  yourself  ?  " 


302  A  Princetonian. 

"  Every  day,"  Hart  answered  ;  "  but  what 
are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  Clean  out  this  entry  and  take  care  of  him. 
Or,  he  might  be  moved,  if  we  could  get  a  house 
in  town.  That  would  suit  the  faculty  better." 

"You  had  better  not  come  in,  Ken,"  said 
Newton,  opening  the  door  to  the  room.  "  I 
may  see  you  in  the  morning.  Poor  old  Irish  ! 
Don't  say  anything  about  it." 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  him,"  said  Kenmore. 
"  There  is  n't  anything  I  can  do,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Don't  think  so.     Good-night." 

The  doctor  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  How  are  you  feeling  yourself,  Pop  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  fair  to  middling ;  that  is,  I  'm  a  little  off 
my  feed,  but  I  'm  all  right." 

"  Well,  you  'd  better  go  around  and  see  the 
Dean,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Don't  go  inside  the 
house,  but  just  tell  him." 

Hart  started  off  at  once.  In  half  an  hour  he 
returned.  Heaphy  was  bundled  into  a  carriage, 
and  taken  to  a  little  house  down  Witherspoon 
Street,  where  no  students  were  boarding,  and 
installed  in  an  upper  room.  Before  morning  he 
was  in  a  raging  fever  and  his  mind  was  wander- 


Senior  Year.  303 

ing.  In  response  to  the  doctor's  suggestion 
that  his  family  had  better  be  informed,  Hart 
replied  that,  like  himself,  Heaphy  had  no  kith 
or  kin  of  whom  he  had  ever  made  mention. 

"  Well,  look  here,  you  'd  better  not  go  to  the 
practice  to-morrow,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Just 
keep  away  from  people  and  take  things  easy. 
This  young  man  will  have  to  have  a  nurse." 

"  Why,  I  'm  going  to  nurse  him  myself,"  Hart 
replied.  "  We  Ve  got  to  keep  down  expenses." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  curiously  as  he 
held  up  a  little  thermometer  to  the  light. 

"  What  will  they  say  about  the  football. 
You  ought  not  to  run  any  risks." 

"  Darn  the  risks !  Do  you  think  I  'm  going 
back  on  him  ?  It  's  my  place  to  look  out  for 
him." 

"  I  would  n't  mind  about  expenses,  if  I  were 
you,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  '11  telegraph  for  a 
nurse,  and  be  around  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. Take  care  of  yourself.  Good-night." 

Hart  sat  down  in  the  rocking-chair  by  the  lamp 
that  was  turned  low  on  the  table.  Heaphy  was 
muttering  a  little,  and  tossing  uneasily  on  the 
bed  in  an  inner  room.  Suddenly  the  bell 
down-stairs  in  the  hall  jingled.  The  caller  was 


304  A  Princetonian. 

no  less  a  person  than  a  member  of  the  faculty 
high  in  authority — the  dear  old  chap  who  never 
conditioned  any  one  in  his  life. 

"  Mr.  Hart,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet,  lecture 
manner,  "  you  need  not  to  worry.  Mr.  Heaphy 
will  be  looked  after  and  taken  care  of  in  the 
best  way  possible.  But,"  he  added,  "  I  would 
not  attend  recitations,  if  I  were  you,  for  a 
few  days,  and  I  would  keep  away  from  the 
campus.  We  don't  wish  to  frighten  people, 
and  I  really  don't  know  how  much  trouble  we 
may  have  already  on  foot  for  us.  Too  bad  the 
infirmary  is  not  built,  but  rest  assured  that 
everything  will  be  done  for  your  friend." 

With  that  he  bade  good-night,  and  Hart 
returned  to  his  lonely  watching. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IN  TOWN. 

"  DID  you  ever  hear  of  such  luck  in  your 
life?"  exclaimed  Kenmore  Hollingsworth  at 
the  breakfast-table,  as  he  seated  himself  and 
threw  a  letter  down  beside  his  plate.  "  Just 
got  news  from  Simmy  Congreve,  at  Princeton, 
that  Pop  Hart  has  come  down  with  scarlet- 
fever.  You  know  I  told  you  all  about  that 
evening  there  last  week.  His  room-mate  is 
pretty  bad  too." 

"  Whew !  that  is  bad  news,"  said  Mr.  Hol- 
lingsworth, looking  up  from  the  paper.  "  Is 
he  dangerously  ill  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  put  in  Mrs.  Hollingsworth. 
"  But  come,  Kenmore,  it  won't  do  any  good 
to  go  on  like  that ;  sit  down  and  eat  your 
breakfast." 

Kenmore  had  jumped  up  and  walked  over 
to  the  window. 

305 


306  A  Princetonian. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  could  do  something 
for  him?  "  he  said,  turning. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  we  could  do. 
They  will  probably  look  out  for  them  down 
there." 

"  Probably  his  family  will  come  to  him,"  said 
Mr.  Hollingsworth.  "  Ah,  here  it  is  in  the 
paper:  'The  Princeton  Football  Captain  out 
of  the  Game,'  quite  an  account." 

"  He  has  n't  any  family,  and  not  a  penny  in 
the  world,  at  least  Mrs.  Trevellian  told  me," 
said  Mrs.  Hollingsworth. 

"  Well,  that  does  n't  make  any  matter,'  an- 
swered her  son,"  and  it  does  n't  count  at 
college  either.  Congreve  says  that  everyone 
is  all  broken  up  over  it." 

As  he  spoke  thus  Madge  had  appeared  at 
the  doorway. 

"  Why  this  tableau  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "  It  looks  as  if  Ken  had  been  sent 
to  the  corner.  Please  don't  say  anything  to 
me  for  being  late.  Why,  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Pop  Hart  has  got  the  scarlet-fever,"  said 
Kenmore. 

If  he  had  looked  closely  at  his  sister  he 
would  have  noticed  her  face  grow  a  shade 


In  Town.  307 

paler,  and  her  eyes  close  a  little.  She  sat  down 
very  quickly. 

"  Is  he  dangerously  ill  ?  "  she  asked  with  an 
effort. 

"  There  's  Congreve's  letter,"  Kenmore  an- 
swered, extending  the  epistle  across  the  table. 
Madge  picked  it  up ;  it  was  with  difficulty  she 
could  see  the  writing.  She  read  the  first  line 
over  and  over,  '  Dear  old  Pop  Hart  is  ill  with 
scarlet-fever.  Came  on  yesterday  afternoon. 
He  had  insisted  on  nursing  Heaphy,  confound 
him,  and  now  he  's  got  it.'  "  Here  she  stopped. 

"  There  's  no  use  reading  all  that,  Madge," 
said  Mrs.  Hollingsworth,  looking  curiously  at 
her  daughter.  "  Mr.  Hart  seemed  to  be  a  very 
nice  young  man  ;  but  you  had  better  eat  your 
breakfast,  if  you  are  going  out  riding." 

Madge  put  down  the  letter,  and  commenced 
to  pick  at  a  bunch  of  grapes. 

"  I  don't  think  I  '11  go  out  riding  to-day, 
Mamma,"  she  said  quite  calmly. 

Then  she  suddenly  arose.  Kenmore  had 
seated  himself  again  and  Mr.  Hollingsworth 
looked  from  him  to  his  daughter. 

"  Why,  you  have  n't  eaten  anything  at  all, 
Madge,"  he  said. 


308  A  Princetonian. 

She  turned  at  the  door. 

"  I  really  don't  feel  a  bit  hungry,"  she  an- 
swered, smiling. 

For  a  minute  after  she  left  no  one  said  a 
word.  Mr.  Hollingsworth  spoke  first. 

"  The  theatre  supper  was  too  much  for  her 
last  night,  three  in  a  week ! "  he  remarked, 
rising.  "  The  way  young  people  go  on  now-a- 
days !  " 

With  that  he  left  the  room.  Kenmore  and 
his  mother  sat  looking  at  one  another.  As 
long  as  the  servant  was  in  the  room  they  said 
nothing,  but  when  the  sedate  Hawkins  had  dis- 
appeared Mrs.  Hollingsworth  leaned  towards 
her  son. 

"  Had  you  ever  suspected  anything  like 
that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Like  what  ?  "  replied  Kenmore  evasively 
and  absently. 

"  Don't  be  stupid,  Kenmore.  Madge  is  a 
very  impressionable  girl,  and  if  your  friend  Mr. 
Hart  has  presumed  upon  some  people  taking 
him  up " 

Kenmore  interrupted  her.  "  See  here, 
Mother,"  he  said,  "  you  know  Madge  is  not 
impressionable,  and  I  can  vouch  for  this,  that 


In  Town.  309 

my  friend  Hart,  as  you  call  him,  would  presume 
upon  nothing." 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  gather  that,  at  all,  from  what 
Mrs.  Trevellian  told  me  this  summer.  But  you 
know  it  would  never  do  in  the  world,  and  is 
not  to  be  thought  of ;  the  idea  of  a  man  like 
that " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  talk  about  it,"  inter- 
rupted Kenmore  leaving  the  table.  "  In  the 
first  place  you  may  be  mistaken,  and  what  's 
the  good " 

"  You  're  right ;  it  is  n't  worth  discussing," 
said  Mrs.  Hollingsworth  as  she  arose  and  fol- 
lowed him  out  of  the  room. 

When  Madge  had  left  the  table  she  hastened 
up-stairs  to  the  little  front  room  she  called  her 
study ;  she  passed  quickly  through  it  to  her 
bedroom  and  closed  the  door  behind  her.  She 
did  not  understand  her  feelings  but  she  simply 
kneeled  down  beside  the  bed  and,  with  her 
hands  clasped  before  her,  she  prayed  silently 
that  Hart's  life  might  be  spared.  Before  she 
had  risen  two  large  tears  had  welled  from  her 
eyes.  Just  then  she  heard  her  mother's 
voice  calling  her  from  the  hall.  Jumping  to 
her  feet  she  wiped  her  cheeks,  and  calmly 


310  A  Princetonian. 

and  collectedly  she  met  her  mother  at  the 
door. 

Before  Mrs.  Hollingsworth  had  said  a  word 
Madge  spoke. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  out  riding  after  all,  Mamma 
dear.  It 's  too  fine  a  day  to  miss,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Hollingsworth  looked  at  her  rather  in 
astonishment.  She  expected  to  find  her  in  a 
very  different  mood.  She  was  completely  dis- 
armed and  did  not  know  what  to  say.  Perhaps 
she  had  been  hasty  in  speaking  as  she  had  to 
Kenmore,  so  she  merely  said  : 

"  All  right,  my  dear,"  and  turned  away. 

When  they  had  reached  a  bend  in  the  bridle- 
path, Raymond  Danforth  half  turned  in  the 
saddle  as  the  horses  slowed  down  to  a  walk. 
For  years  he  had  been  so  well  known  to  the 
Hollingsworth  family  that  the  young  people 
called  one  another  by  their  first  names. 

"You  are  especially  silent  this  morning, 
Madge,"  he  said,  "  so  you  '11  pardon  me  if  I  do 
more  than  usual  of  the  talking." 

"  On  the  same  subject,  of  course  ?  "  she  ques- 
tioned, looking  straight  between  her  horse's 


In  Town.  311 

"Yes,  on  the  same  subject,"  he  replied  unre- 
buffed,  "  that  is,  myself.  You  must  n't  blame 
me  if  I  think  it  is  interesting." 

"  I  have  never  intimated  that  you  were  un- 
interesting," said  Miss  Hollingsworth,  "  but 
why  not  another  subject,  for  a  change  ?  " 

"  You  know  your  influence  over  me,"  went 
on  Danforth.  "  I  Ve  given  up  lots  of  things — " 

"  Things  that  did  n't  do  you  any  good  ;  you 
must  acknowledge  that,"  spoke  up  Madge, 
wrinkling  her  brows. 

"  Granted,  but  if  you  gave  me  only  some 
hope,  I  might  accomplish  a  great  deal  in  life, 
and  without  it,  I  fear  I  shall  do  nothing.  I  Ve 
told  you  that  before,  time  and  again.  But  now, 
if  you  wish,  let 's  change  the  subject.  Did  you 
hear  of  Hart,  the  Princeton  football  man's  ill- 
ness ?  " 

His  eyes  were  searching  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  Madge  answered  ;  "  Kenmore  told  us 
this  morning  at  breakfast." 

She  knew  that  he  was  looking  at  her,  and  she 
spoke  calmly. 

"  Despite  his  training  and  all  that,  I  fear  it 
will  go  hard  with  him,"  sighed  Danforth,  with 
an  assumption  of  some  feeling.  "  He  used  to 


312  A  Princetonian. 

spree  it  a  good  bit  on  the  sly.  I  dare  say  he 
does  now,  you  know." 

"  Really,  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  days  when  I  used  to  do  a  good 
bit  of  it  myself,  he  ran  more  than  even  with  me. 
But  I  really  had  to  give  him  up — could  n't 
stand  the  pace." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Miss  Hollingsworth. 

She  chirruped  to  her  horse.  Danforth  dug 
his  with  his  spur  and  they  broke  forward  into  a 
gallop. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

CONVALESCENT. 

EVERY  day  bulletins  were  posted,  telling  how 
the  two  sick  men  were  getting  on,  and  the  news 
that  the  captain  of  the  football  team  was  very 
low  indeed  had  caused  a  gloom  over  the  whole 
college.  The  men  at  the  'Varsity  grounds 
played  in  a  listless,  half-hearted  way.  No  one 
sang  the  old  song  that  began  "  We  are  going  to 
win  the  championship."  From  freshman  to 
senior,  every  one  who  passed  by  the  little  house, 
that  had  been  turned  for  the  nonce  into  a  hos- 
pital, looked  toward  it  as  if  hoping  for  the  best. 
Heaphy  was  much  better — pronounced  out  of 
danger,  but  Hart's  condition  was  very  des- 
perate. But  three  days  after  election  day  when 
the  news  of  the  victory  of  the  candidate  from 
the  Middle  States  had  been  well  assured,  young 
Professor  Ransom  met  the  doctor  on  the  street. 
The  physician  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  his 
worried  look. 

313 


314  A  Princetonian. 

"  He  's  much  better  to-day,"  he  replied  to  the 
professor's  inquiry.  "  Last  night  when  I  was 
there  he  had  a  ray  of  consciousness,  and  asked 
what  day  it  was.  I  told  him,  and  then  he  in- 
quired about  the  election,  and  who  won,  and  I 
told  him  that.  He  nodded  his  head  and  said, 
'  Good.'  But  see  here,  Professor,  you  know 
how  a  man  betrays  his  secrets  in  delirium ;  he  's 
got  some  girl  on  his  mind." 

"  Well,  most  young  men  have,"  returned  the 
professor.  "  Or  ought  to  have,  properly  speak- 
ing." 

"  He  kept  mentioning  but  one  name  for 
some  time;  let 's  see — what  is  it, — the  name  of 
'  Madge.'  Is  he  engaged  to  be  married,  do  you 
know?" 

The  professor  paused. 

"  Seems  to  me  I  heard  something  about  it  a 
long  time  ago  in  his  freshman  year,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  The  Lord  grant  he  pulls  through.  I 
hope  he  won't  begin  to  worry  about  football." 

"  Nor  his  studies,"  interrupted  the  doctor. 

"  Never  mind  about  that." 

Congreve  and  Jimmie  James  happened  to 
pass  at  this  moment.  Seeing  who  the  two 
figures  were,  they  stopped. 


Convalescent.  315 

"  How  is  he,  Doctor?  "  inquired  Congreve  in 
a  low  tone,  saluting  Professor  Ransom. 

"  Much  better ;  glad  to  say." 

Congreve  hit  James  a  thump  between  the 
shoulders. 

"  Bully !  "  he  said,  and  they  went  off  to 
spread  the  news. 

The  professor  returned  to  his  study,  and 
picking  up  a  pen  he  commenced  to  write  to 
Mrs.  Carter  in  New  York.  Incidentally  he 
happened  to  mention,  in  connection  with  the 
tidings,  the  name  that  Hart  had  repeated  so 
often  not  knowing  that  any  one  would  hear  it ; 
and  the  mention  of  this  name  made  the  dear 
little  woman  think. 

Two  weeks  after  this  Newton  sat  up  in  bed, 
at  least  he  was  helped  into  a  sitting  position  by 
the  doctor  and  the  nurse.  It  would  have  been 
hard  at  first  to  recognize  him.  The  beard  on 
his  face  made  him  look  years  older,  and  his  big- 
boned  arms,  sprawled  over  the  counterpane, 
were  almost  pathetic  to  look  at ;  but  his 
eyes  were  bright  and  his  voice  was  fairly 
strong. 

"  Do    you    want    to   look   at   yourself,    Mr. 


3 1 6  A  Princetonian. 

Hart  ?  "  asked  the  nurse.  "  There 's  a  mirror 
here." 

"  Would  n't  look  at  myself  for  a  farm,"  New- 
ton answered.  "  Bring  in  the  other  fellow ;  let 
me  look  at  him." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Heaphy,"  the  kindly-faced  woman 
called  into  the  next  room. 

In  answer  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy  tottered 
through  the  doorway.  He  sank  down  into  a 
rocking-chair,  and  the  nurse  looked  from  one  to 
another  in  amusement. 

"  Well,  you  're  the  funniest  looking  thing  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life,"  said  Hart,  forcing  a  smile. 
"  I  suppose  I  '11  begin  to  peel  in  spots  like  that 
myself.  Irish,  you  and  I  had  better  let  ourselves 
out  to  a  side-show  somewhere." 

But  Heaphy  replied  nothing.  He  leaned  for- 
ward, and  took  Hart's  thin  fingers  in  his  own. 
Then  he  leaned  his  forehead  on  the  clasped 
hands  and  burst  into  tears.  The  nurse  looked 
down  at  the  two  young  men,  and  then  dis- 
creetly left  the  room.  Hart  raised  his  other 
hand  and  placed  it  on  Heaphy 's  head,  from 
which  the  shock  of  hair  had  almost  disap- 
peared. 

"  Look  here  ;  never  mind,  old  boy,"  he  said- 


Convalescent.  317 

"  We  Ve  pulled  out  all  right.  There  's  lots  to 
do  now.  We  '11  rustle  along  together." 

Heaphy  raised  his  head.  "  That 's  what  we  '11 
do,"  he  said  ;  and  his  words  meant  more  than 
Hart  knew. 

There  was  a  smell  of  fumigation  in  the  room, 
for  the  next  apartment  had  been  well  smoked 
out.  The  bell  down-stairs  rang.  Another 
young  woman  in  a  nurse's  cap  went  to  the 
door. 

"  No,  you  could  n't  see  him  to-day,"  she  said. 
"  You  '11  have  to  wait  until  to-morrow." 

"  Hallo,"  said  Hart.  "  So  there  are  two  of 
you  ladies,  after  all.  I  was  n't  sure." 

"  There  are  a  whole  raft  of  young  gentle- 
men," the  first  nurse  responded,  "  down  at  the 
door.  They  're  fit  to  tear  the  house  down  to 
see  you,  sir."  She  spoke  with  a  strong  English 
accent. 

"  I  tell  you  what  we  could  do,  Miss  Watson," 
answered  the  other  nurse,  who  had  entered  like 
a  very  attractive  ghost — at  least,  in  regard  to 
silence — "  just  give  this  bed  a  push  and  he 
could  look  out  of  the  window." 

It  was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  It  was  true 
that  those  below  hardly  recognized  the  face 


318  A  Princetonian. 

they  saw,  but  three  times  three  were  given  for 
Pop  Hart.  Then,  as  if  not  quite  an  after- 
thought, a  rousing  cheer  was  given  for  "  Irish." 
Heaphy,  leaning  over  Hart's  shoulder,  almost 
blushed. 

"  Two  pretty  looking  scarecrows,"  said  Go- 
latly  to  L.  Putney  Betts,  as  the  party  walked 
up  the  street.  "  Now  let  the  committee  get 
together  and  stampede  to  the  doctor." 

He  turned  at  the  corner,  and  followed  by 
Congreve,  Betts,  and  three  of  the  others,  he  en- 
tered the  front  yard  of  the  little  brown  house 
that  stood  back  among  the  bushes.  They  rang 
the  bell.  The  doctor  himself  opened  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  he  said.  "  What 's  the 
rumpus  ?  " 

"  Doctor,"  said  Golatly,  who  was  spokesman 
of  the  party,  "  we  're  a  committee  from  the 
senior  class,  and  represent  the  class  in  what  we 
say.  We  want  the  bill  for  all  your  services  and 
the  nurses  and  the  whole  business  sent  to  us." 

The  doctor  smiled  about  that. 

"  You  need  n't  worry  about  that ;  the  bill  's 
paid  now,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  The  Faculty  ?  "  gasped  Congreve  in  aston- 
ishment. 


Convalescent.  3 1 9 

"  No,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  It  's  another 
dignified  person,  I  should  say  corporation." 

Now,  without  stretching  the  truth  at  all,  the 
doctor  knew  more  about  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy 
than  any  one  in  college,  even  including  Hart. 
The  corporation  he  referred  to  was  the  Knick- 
erbocker Trust  Co. 

"  Who  could  it  have  been  ?  "  questioned 
Charlie  Townes.  "  Let  me  think." 

"  Don't  think,  Charlie,  or  you  '11  strain  your 
mind,"  said  Golatly. 

"  Let 's  drop  in  at  Adam's  and  drink  Pop's 
health.  My,  but  he  was  a  skinny  looking  thing 
in  that  beard,"  laughed  Golatly. 

"Well,  he  was  n't  anything  to  Irish,"  put  in 
Betts.  "  I  don't  think  any  girl  would  vote  him 
a  kissable  object." 

"  Never  mind,  Irish  has  got  the  right  stuff 
in  him,"  said  the  first-base  man. 

"Which  is  the  truthful  truth  from  truthful 
James,"  said  Golatly,  as  they  turned  into  the 
dingy  little  alley. 

When  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  on  the  side- 
walk had  disappeared,  Hart  looked  around  and 
found  that  the  nurses  and  Heaphy  had  gone. 
He  was  alone.  A  strange  languor  was  upon 


320  A  Princetonian. 

him  ;  a  languor  of  the  limbs  that  appeared  to 
lend  an  extra  activity  to  the  senses.  It  ap- 
peared to  him  that  he  could  hear  the  footsteps 
of  the  fly  walking  across  the  counterpane  ;  and 
the  chirping  of  a  flock  of  sparrows  in  the  leaf- 
less trees  outside  of  the  window  seemed  to  be 
immediately  above  his  head.  Shortly  before 
the  doctor's  last  call  he  had  awakened  from  a 
delightful  dream.  He  had  dreamed  that  Madge 
had  stood  there  beside  him  ;  he  could  feel  the 
touch  of  her  cool  hand  upon  his  forehead.  He 
remembered  how  reverently,  and  yet  with  what 
love,  he  had  lifted  her  fingers  to  his  lips.  Ah, 
the  tricks  that  the  fever  plays !  How  his  heart 
had  swelled  to  bursting  as  she  had  supported  his 
head  in  the  hollow  of  her  round  white  arm. 
As  he  thought  over  this  recollection,  he  had 
closed  his  eyes,  and  rolled  his  face  slowly  over 
toward  the  light.  There,  on  the  little  table  with 
nothing  on  it  but  a  few  bottles,  was  a  photo- 
graph leaning  against  the  wall.  It  was  the  one 
that  had  Madge's  picture  in  the  centre.  Poor 
Pop  did  not  know  that  he  had  asked  for  it  so 
often,  or  that  Heaphy  had  guessed  his  secret 
long  ago.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  reach  it 
but  it  was  too  far  away. 


Convalescent,  321 

The  capped  head  of  the  little  English  nurse 
appeared  about  the  corner  of  the  doorway,  for 
Hart  had  jingled  some  of  the  vials  on  the  table. 
She  knew  what  he  was  after,  and  entering  the 
room,  she  pushed  the  table  closer,  and,  smooth- 
ing back  his  hair,  she  gave  him  a  little  stroke  on 
the  arm. 

"  You  're  a  dear  good  patient,"  she  said. 
Then  she  hurried  out. 

Hart  picked  up  the  photograph. 

No,  she  would  never  know  it.  What  right 
did  he  have  to  tell  her.  Yet,  he  would  go  on- 
ward straight  for  the  best,  because  he  felt  with 
her  great  sympathy  he  could  not  but  advance. 

21 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  HOUSE-PARTY. 

MARY  BLISS  sat  at  her  little  desk,  scratching 
busily  away  with  a  very  large  stub  pen.  She 
underlined  the  last  few  words  on  the  page, 
blotted  them  carefully,  and  then  directed  the 
envelope  to  Miss  Madge  Hollingsworth  at  her 
address  on  lower  Fifth  Avenue.  The  words 
she  had  underlined  were,  "  Don  t  fail  to  come!  " 
As  she  sealed  the  letter,  the  maid  appeared  at 
the  door. 

"  Mr.  Elliott  is  down-stairs  Miss." 

Mary  jumped  up,  and  ran  out  into  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  Tad,"  she  called. 

"  Hullo,  "  answered  a  voice. 

"  Be  right  down  in  a  minute,"  called  Mary. 
"  I  've  got  something  to  tell  you." 

"  That 's  nothing  unusual,"  was  the  answer. 
"  I  'm  in  a  receptive  mood."  The  young  man 
standing  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  blew  a  kiss 
322 


A  House- Party.  323 

from  the  tip  of  his  fingers.  The  kiss  was  re- 
turned over  the  railing,  and  then  Mary  tripped 
down  to  meet  him.  It  was  only  two  weeks 
now  since  the  engagement  of  Mr.  Thadeus 
Elliott  and  Miss  Mary  Bliss  had  been  an- 
nounced, and  they  were  living  that  exhilarating 
existence  when  they  hardly  seemed  to  walk  on 
earth,  and  honestly  wondered  if  two  people 
were  ever  before  so  happy  as  they  were. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  you  have  to  tell  me  ?  "  asked 
Tad,  as  he  helped  Mary  into  her  little  fur- 
trimmed  coat,  and  took  a  very  deliberate 
advantage  of  her  helpless  situation. 

"  Only  this,  Newton  Hart  is  going  to  spend 
the  Christmas  vacation  with  us,  and  two  or 
three  other  people  are  coming.  I  wish  the 
house  were  twice  as  big ;  but  it 's  a  kind  of  sur- 
prise party  I  'm  getting  up.  Everyone  thinks 
he  is  the  only  one  invited." 

"  Any  girls  coming  ?  "  asked  Tad  as  they 
stepped  out  into  the  crisp  December  air. 

"  Madge  Hollingsworth  for  one,  at  least  I 
think  she  '11  come." 

"  Then  of  course  you  '11  have  to  ask  Ray- 
mond Danforth,  to  even  things  up*,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,"  responded  Mary  firmly,  as  she  stopped 


324  A  Princetonian. 

at  the  corner  and  slipped  a  letter  into  the  mail- 
box. "  That 's  exactly  what  I  have  n't  done." 

"Oh,  you  little  marplot,"  said  Elliott. 
"  You  're  up  to  some  trick  or  other.  You 
looked  real  vicious  for  an  instant,  what 's  the 
row  ?  " 

"Never  mind  what  it  is,"  laughed  Mary. 
"  Come  on,  let 's  walk  real  fast." 

"  Here,  jump  into  the  back  seat,  old  fellow  ; 
in  with  your  bags  !  "  cried  Ned  after  he  had 
greeted  Hart  on  the  platform  station. 

He  helped  him  into  a  great  old-fashioned 
sleigh,  one  of  the  semi-reclining  kind,  with  low 
backs  and  easy  seats.  The  Bliss's  coachman, 
(who  had  grown  a  beard  for  the  winter,  and 
looked  very  comfortable  in  a  seal-skin  cap), 
spoke  to  the  long-tailed  horses,  the  bells  jingled 
and  they  were  off. 

"Is  n't  this  a  day  for  sleighing,  though  !  " 
exclaimed  Ned  looking  about.  "  Now,  I  '11  tell 
you  something,  old  man  ;  say  !  you  're  looking 
much  better." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  better  every  minute,"  Hart  an- 
swered, "  but  I  am  not  very  strong  yet.  I  'm 
a  little  shaky  in  the  legs." 


A  House- Party.  325 

His  face  was  very  thin,  but  his  color  was  good, 
and  Ned  had  noticed  that  he  held  himself  as 
straight  as  usual  when  he  stood  on  the  station 
platform. 

"  Now,  when  we  get  to  the  house,"  Ned  went 
on,  continuing  to  explain  an  idea  he  had  in  his 
mind,  "  Thomas  and  I  are  going  to  get  out, 
and  my  brother-in-law-that-is-to-be,  old  Tad,  is 
going  to  take  you  and  the  two  girls  for  a  drive. 
Don't  pay  any  attention  if  he  gets  absent- 
minded  and  loses  the  way  ;  you  could  not  up- 
set this  old  tub  to  save  your  life." 

"  Who  is  the  other  girl  ?  "  asked  Hart. 

"  Miss,  er — what-'s-her-name."  Ned  frowned 
a  little  as  if  cudgelling  his  memory.  "  Hello, 
here  we  are  at  the  house.  I  '11  take  the  bags  in 
and  you  sit  here." 

Hart  sat  back  in  the  furs,  thinking. 

He  was  thinking  of  something  that  had  been 
told  him  but  an  hour  before  in  the  train.  It 
came  about  thus  :  Going  into  the  smoking-car, 
he  had  met  Sharkey  Sprague,  and  had  sat  down 
beside  him  ;  naturally  the  conversation  had 
turned  to  Danforth  before  long,  although  it 
might  be  hard  to  say  who  started  it.  "  Oh, 
he  's  trying  to  play  quiet  now,"  Sprague  had 


326  A  Princetonian. 

said  with  a  laugh.  "  He 's  going  to  get 
married  ;  that 's  the  matter." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  is  engaged  to 
Ken's  sister?"  Newton  asked  quietly. 

Now,  Sprague  was  one  of  those  liars  who 
could  never  resist  an  opportunity  to  put  his 
pastime  into  practice.  He  liked  to  appear  to 
know  things. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but,  er — look  here,  don't 
say  anything  about  it,  you  know." 

"Did  he  tell  you  so  himself?"  Hart  had 
asked  again. 

"Yes,"  Sprague  responded  brazenly;  "but 
not  a  word  to  a  soul.  It 's  on  the  q.  t.,  you 
know." 

"  I  shall  never  say  a  word  to  anyone  about 
it,"  Hart  had  answered ;  then  he  arose  and  left 
the  smoking-car. 

This  was  what  he  was  thinking  of  when  a  call 
from  the  house  aroused  him.  It  may  also  have 
been  a  good  excuse  for  the  start  he  gave  when 
he  saw  that  Tad  and  Miss  Bliss  were  accompa- 
nied by  no  one  else  than  Madge  Hollingsworth 
as  they  came  down  the  ash-sprinkled  walk. 
Hart  jumped  out  of  the  sleigh.  Miss  Bliss  got 
in  the  front  seat  and  Ned  picked  up  the  reins 
and  pulled  the  robe  around  him. 


A  House- Party.  327 

With  a  hand  that  fairly  trembled  Hart  helped 
Madge  in  and  settled  himself  beside  her. 

"  It 's  awfully  nice  to  see  you  here,"  she  said, 
turning  to  him.  "  I  did  n't  know  that  you 
were  coming  at  all." 

"  And  I  did  n't  know  that  you  were  going  to 
be  here,  either,"  Newton  answered,  wondering 
why  in  the  world  Ned  should  have  forgotten 
her  name. 

"  We  were  all  so  sorry  to  hear  of  your  illness," 
went  on  Miss  Hollingsworth.  "  Was  n't  it  too 
bad  about  the  football.  It  would  have  made  a 
good  deal  of  difference  if  you  had  played." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  I  know  it  would.  But  you 
must  have  been  well  taken  care  of,  you  look  so 
well  now." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  well  taken  care  of,"  Hart  re- 
sponded. "  Both  Heaphy  and  I." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  Mr.  Heaphy,"  said 
Madge. 

"  I  wish  you  did,"  Newton  replied.  "  He  is 
the  most  trustworthy  man  I  know." 

"  What  a  fine  thing  it  is,"  said  the  girl,  "  to 
find  someone  in  whom  you  can  absolutely  trust. 
Someone  you  can  believe  in  through  everything 
— no  matter  what." 


328  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  have  been  fortunate  in  finding  many  true 
friends,  Miss  Hollingsworth.  It  makes  life 
very  grand  to  me.  I  think  the  strong  influences 
of  a  man's  life  often  come  from  the  outside." 

"  And  a  woman's  also,"  Madge  replied 
thoughtfully,  "  from  unexpected  sources." 

"  Then,  true  again  as  to  men,"  Newton  re- 
plied, "  I  think  that  they  are  influenced  by 
people  who  never  suspect  the  power  that  they 
have." 

"  Do  you  think  that  a  woman  ever  touches  a 
man  in  that  way,  or  does  it  simply  come  from 
the  effect  of  a  more  powerful  reason  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  ask  me,"  Newton  replied  in  a 
low  voice,  "  I  should  say  that  the  influence  of  a 
fine  woman  on  a  man  would  be  the  greatest 
thing  in  his  life." 

A  pause  followed  and  he  glanced  down  at 
her.  Oh,  how  beautiful  she  was,  with  the 
color  in  her  cheeks,  and  that  wonderful  mouth 
and  noble  chin,  and  how  calmly  the  thoughtful 
gray  eyes  looked  out  from  beneath  the  heavy 
lashes.  The  tumult  that  stirred  within  him, 
was  increased  almost  into  agony  by  her  next 
words. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  'm  asking  what  I  do," 


A  House- Party.  329 

Madge  said  slowly.  "  Have  you  ever  been 
stirred  in  that  way  by  any  woman  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  have,"  was  the  reply,  and  his 
voice  trembled  as  he  spoke.  "  God  knows  I 
have,"  he  repeated. 

Miss  Hollingsworth  did  not  look  at  him. 
Her  eyes  still  gazed  far  off.  Hart  had  to  lean 
to  catch  her  words. 

"Is  she  alive  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  and,  thank  God,  happy." 

A  longer  pause  followed.  Oh,  the  wild  temp- 
tation that  seized  him,  then  and  there  to  turn 
to  her  and  say,  "  you  are  the  one,  forgive  me, 
forgive  me  !  Can  you  not  see  it  ?  "  But  what 
right  would  he  have  to  do  a  thing  like  this. 
A  man  with  nothing  but  the  future  before  him  ; 
a  future  that  might  hold  promise,  but  with 
nothing  in  the  past  that  he  had  garnered  to 
offer  a  woman,  except  a  desire  to  work  for  her. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you  two  in  the 
back  seat  ?  "  asked  Elliott,  suddenly  turning 
around.  He  did  not  heed  Mary's  little  warn- 
ing nudge.  "  I  did  n't  know  but  that  Pop  had 
exercised  an  invalid's  privilege  and  gone  to 
sleep.  Is  she  looking  out  for  you,  old  man  ?  " 

Madge  came  to  the  rescue.      "Look  here, 


330  A  Princetonian. 

Mr.  Elliott,"  she  said  laughing,  "you  took  the 
wrong  road  at  the  corner;  this  one  ends  at  the 
top  of  the  hill." 

"  Well,  we  can  turn  around.  It 's  getting  so 
dark,  I  think  we  had  better  turn  toward  home 
any  how." 

On  the  way  back  through  the  hills  of  the  park 
Newton  found  occasion  to  tuck  in  the  robe 
about  Madge's  feet ;  he  could  not  reason  why 
this  little  action  should  have  given  him  such  a 
great  sensation.  But  they  were  very  silent,  and 
Tad,  who  was  driving  with  one  hand — the  other 
was  calmly  reposing  with  both  of  Mary's  inside 
her  muff — did  not  again  indulge  in  interrup- 
tions. 

That  night,  as  Mary  kissed  Madge,  she 
looked  up  at  her.  "  Have  n't  you  got  anything 
to  tell  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  why?" 

"  Not  one  little  thing  ?  " 

"  No,  not  one  little  thing." 

Nevertheless,  Mary  thought  she  detected  a 
quiver  of  the  lips. 

Ned  and  his  mother  sat  up  after  the  rest  had 
gone  to  bed. 

"  I  know  it 's  very  true,  mother,  what  you  say 


A  House- Party.  331 

about  a  man's  having  to  have  some  of  this  world's 
goods  before  thinking  of  matrimony.  Now 
please !  it 's  not  my  idea  about  Pop  and  Miss 
Hollingsworth  ;  it 's  Mary's.  He  never  speaks 
about  himself;  but,  nevertheless,  I  think  old 
Pop  has  some  money,  for  either  he  or  Heaphy 
paid  the  expenses  of  the  hospital  at  Princeton, 
and  I  doubt  if  poor  old  Irish  has  more  than 
enough  to  buy  his  lead  pencils." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Bliss,  who  possessed 
some  worldly  wisdom  in  spite  of  her  kind  heart 
and  ready  sympathy,  "  you  had  better  let  things 
take  their  course,  and  not  have  anything  to  do 
with  it." 

"  I  'm  sure  I  have  n't  had  anything  to  do  with 
it,"  laughed  Ned.  "  It 's  all  Mary." 

"  Well,  Mary  is  n't  the  one  to  judge  of  such 
matters  at  present,"  said  Mrs.  Bliss.  "  I  think 
her  mind  is  prejudiced  entirely.  Dear  me,  I 
remember  how  it  was  myself." 

Ned  kissed  his  mother  on  the  forehead  and 
went  off  to  bed.  His  room  was  next  to  Hart's, 
and  he  looked  in  through  the  door. 

"  Hello,"  Newton  called  to  him. 

"  What,  not  asleep  yet  ?  "  Ned  exclaimed. 

"  No,  not  yet ;  good-night." 


332  A  Princetonian. 

Ned  shut  the  door. 

Madge's  little  visit  had  only  been  for  the  day, 
and  she  was  leaving  on  the  train  the  next  morn- 
ing She  was  rather  quiet  at  breakfast,  and  after 
they  had  climbed  out  of  the  sleigh,  Ned  ran  off 
to  look  after  her  luggage,  while  Newton  and 
she  found  themselves  standing  alone. 

"  You  're  not  offended  at  me,  Miss  Hollings- 
worth  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  offended  ?  What  could  you  have 
done  that  would  have  offended  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know,"  Newton  responded,  "  but 
that  I  might  have  said  too  much." 

The  train  came  roaring  to  the  station  at  this 
minute  and  Ned  quite  breathless  ran  up  with 
the  checks.  The  good-byes  were  soon  over. 

When  she  had  seated  herself  by  the  window 
she  did  not  open  the  magazine  that  lay  in  her 
lap.  She  was  going  over  her  conversation  in 
the  sleigh  with  Newton,  and  she  began  to 
wonder  what  the  other  girl  was  like. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PATRICK    EXPLAINS. 

NEWTON  and  Heaphy  sat  opposite  one 
another  with  the  drop-light  burning  between 
them  ;  a  huge  reference  book  was  spread  out  on 
a  chair  and  Hart  was  turning  to  it  from  time  to 
time.  Suddenly  he  closed  it  with  an  amount 
of  noise  that  must  have  been  made  purposely. 
Heaphy  looked  up  with  a  grin. 

"  Finis,  eh  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  Hart  answered,  "  I  did  that  to  attract 
your  attention.  Take  off  that  green  shade 
and  look  me  in  the  eye."  Heaphy  did  so. 
"  Look  here,"  Newton  went  on,  pointing  his 
finger,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  honestly  who 
it  was  you  borrowed  that  money  from  to  pay 
the  doctor  and  our  running  expenses  over  there 
at  that  house  ?  " 

Heaphy  fidgeted.     Then  he  rose  and  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 
333 


334  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  did  n't  borrow  it  at  all,"  he  said  slowly. 
"Now,  just  listen  and  I  '11  tell  you  something. 
Every  word  of  it  is  true."  Then  he  stopped 
and  began  again,  as  if  he  were  telling  a  made- 
up  story  to  amuse  his  hearer.  "  Once  upon  a 
time,"  he  commenced,  and  then  he  went  on  to 
the  very  end.  He  told  about  his  father's  early 
poverty,  his  success  in  life,  and  his  own  present 
situation.  He  stated  his  present  wealth  so 
simply  and  frankly  that  Hart  repressed  an 
exclamation,  and  sat  there  speechless.  At  last 
he  found  his  tongue. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  this  now  after  keep- 
ing silent  all  this  time?" 

"  It  will  make  no  difference,  will  it  ? " 
Heaphy  questioned  anxiously. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

"  I  was  sure  of  that,  but  it  might  have  before, 
you  know." 

"  It  might  to  some  people,"  Hart  answered. 
"  But  you  and  I  understand  each  other  pretty 
well  now,  Irish,  don't  we?  " 

"  Yes,  we  do,  but  you  're  keeping  something 
from  me  nevertheless." 

"What  is  it?" 

Heaphy  walked  over  to  the  mantelpiece  and 


Patrick  Explains.  335 

picked  up  the  photograph.  "  How  about  this 
picture  ?  "  he  said,  "  and  the  girl " 

Newton  arose  and  placed  both  hands  on  his 
room-mate's  shoulders.  "That,  old  man  is 
something  we  cannot  discuss,"  he  said. 

Heaphy  replaced  the  picture,  and  sitting 
down  at  the  desk,  drew  the  green  shade  over 
his  eyes.  Newton  opened  the  reference  book 
without  a  sound.  But,  in  a  few  minutes  he  arose. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  Heaphy  asked. 

"  I  'm  going  over  to  see  Professor  Ransom," 
Hart  answered. 

"  Be  back  in  a  little  while,  old  boy.  Then 
we  '11  go  out  and  see  what  the  fellows  are  do- 
ing, and  get  some  air  before  going  to  bed." 

Newton  knocked  at  the  Professor's  door. 
"  Come  in,"  said  someone.  It  was  not  the 
Professor's  voice,  but  that  of  one  of  the  other 
young  members  of  the  Faculty,  who  pushed 
himself  out  of  the  easy-chair  before  the  fire  as 
Hart  entered. 

"  Hallo,"  he  said,  "  looking  for  Ransom  ? 
He 's  gone  down  to  New  York, — to  see  a  friend 
of  yours,  I  believe,  Mrs.  Archie  Carter.  Sit 
down  and  have  a  cigar,  won't  you  ?  How  are 
things  going?" 


336  A  Princetonian. 

"  Oh,  first-rate ;  sorry  I  can't  stop.  When 
will  Professor  Ransom  be  back  ?  " 

"  Some  time  to-morrow.     Won't  you  stop  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks ;  just  wanted  to  see  him  on 
business." 

The  Professor  waved  a  familiar  farewell  with 
his  hand  and  Newton  left  the  room. 

At  the  very  moment  that  Hart  had  made  his 
call  upon  the  Professor,  the  latter  was  seated  in 
the  drawing-room  of  Mrs.  Carter's  house  that 
fronted  one  of  the  few  old  squares  in  the 
middle  portion  of  the  city,  a  square  that  was 
surrounded  by  dwellings  of  the  older  aristoc- 
racy ;  it  was  not  a  plebeian  meeting-place  nor  a 
lounging-ground  for  tramps.  Of  a  truth,  it 
was  exceedingly  exclusive  ;  all  of  the  dwellers 
on  the  square  possessed  keys  that  opened  the 
great  iron  gates,  and  admitted  them  inside  the 
tall  railings;  the  houses  themselves,  though 
small,  were  dignified. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'm  going  to  do  next 
week,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  looking  out  of  the 
window.  "  I  'm  going  to  give  a  dinner  to 
some  young  people,  and  have  some  nice  boys 
down  from  college.  We  '11  go  to  the  play 


Patrick  Explains.  337 

afterwards.  You  '11  come,  won't  you,  and  Pop 
Hart  ?  " 

The  Professor  smiled  at  Mrs.  Carter's  casual 
usage  of  the  nick-name. 

"  And  young  Betts,  or  Congreve,  we  '11  ask 
one  of  them,"  Mrs.  Carter  went  on.  "  Want 
you  to  promise  me  one  thing." 

"  What  's  that  ?  "  said  the  Professor. 

"  Bring  Mr.  Hart  with  you.  He  declined  a 
former  invitation  of  mine,  and  I  'm  mad  with 
him." 

"  Oh,  he  '11  come  ;  I  '11  wager  that,"  returned 
Professor  Ransom,  smiling.  "  He  and  I  are 
great  chums,  you  know.  But  you  should 
meet  that  chap  Heaphy ;  there  's  a  puzzle  for 
you." 

"  I  '11  write  and  ask  Mr.  Hart  to  bring  him 
too,"  said  Mrs.  Carter. 

Just  then  someone  got  up  to  go,  and  the 
Professor  stepped  across  the  room  to  speak  to 
Mary  Bliss. 

"  I  don't  know  why  leaving  is  so  catching," 
he  said,  "  but  I  know  this,  that  I  've  got  to  run 
myself,  and  did  n't  wish  to  make  the  first 
move." 

"  Well,  I  need  n't  hasten,"  Mary   answered 


338  A  Princetonian. 

with  a  smile,  "  because  I  'm  stopping  here  for 
the  night." 

"Well,  then,"  was  the  answer,  "I  '11  be  go- 
ing." He  hastily  looked  at  his  watch  and  went 
out  into  the  hall. 

"  Now,  Puss,"  said  Mrs.  Carter  as  the  last 
guest  departed,  and  the  door  of  the  coup£ 
slammed  below,  "  let  's  go  up-stairs,  have  a 
talk,  and  incidentally  let  our  hair  down." 

She  gave  the  order  to  the  butler  to  put 
out  the  lights,  and  then,  hand-in-hand,  Mary 
and  her  hostess  ascended  the  staircase. 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  that  I  was  n't  mistaken 
about  him,"  Mrs.  Carter  observed,  throwing 
herself  back  upon  the  lounge.  "  I  know  a  lot 
about  men,  and,  mark  my  words,  Newton — 
what-'s-his-name — Hart,  bless  him  because  I  like 
him,  is  in  love  with  that  girl,  and,  if  he  has  n't 
any  money,  he  '11  earn  it ;  and  she 's  got  enough 
to  get  on  with  for  herself." 

"  Perhaps  he  's  spoken  to  her,"  ventured 
Mary,  "  and  she " 

"  Has  turned  him  down,  as  the  boys  say. 
I  don't  believe  it.  And  there  is  something 
that  makes  that  girl  unhappy,  whatever  it 
is." 


Patrick  Explains.  339 

"  Perhaps  Ray  Danforth,"  again  ventured 
Miss  Bliss. 

"Horrid  little  snip;  you  don't  like  him,  do 
you  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carter. 

"  I  think  he  has  a  chance,  though,"  said  Miss 
Bliss.  "  He  's  so  persistent.  I  fairly  believe 
Tad  wore  me  out  telling  him  I  did  n't  love  him, 
until — " 

"Until?" 

"  Until  I  did,  that 's  all." 

Mrs.  Carter  smiled.  "  I  tell  you,  here 's 
what  we  '11  do.  I  '11  ask  all  three  of  them  to 
dinner  the  same  night.  It  won't  take  long  to 
find  out.  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  or  what  he 
has  n't  got ;  I  'm  going  to  try  to  help  him  to 
get  that  girl."  Then  she  made  this  comment 
beneath  her  breath,  "  I  'd  just  like  to  hear  what 
Bertha  Trevellian  would  say  to  that."  Smil- 
ing, she  turned  and  looked  over  her  shoulder  at 
Mary.  "  Now  run  off  to  bed,"  she  said,  "  your 
maid  has  been  waiting  for  you  for  half  an  hour." 

But  Mary  lingered. 

"  I  suppose  the  chief  objection  that  the 
Hollingsworths  would  have  to  anything  of  that 
kind  would  be  his  lack  of  what  is  termed  '  so- 
cial position.'  " 


340  A  Princetonian. 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  in  the  gaining,"  responded 
Mrs.  Carter.  "  Mr.  Hollingsworth  himself  came 
from  a  farm  somewhere  in  Massachussetts,  and 
as  for  Mrs.  H.,  her  father  made  very  good  bak- 
ing-powder. It  all  makes  me  very  tired.  Now, 
come,  run  to  bed." 

As  she  said  this  Mrs.  Carter  pulled  out  a 
number  of  hair-pins  and  laid  them  with  a  clat- 
ter on  a  silver  tray.  A  wealth  of  black  hair 
poured  over  her  shoulders,  as  she  leaned  over 
and  kissed  Mary  good-night. 

The  latter  gave  a  little  laugh  and  went  off  to 
her  room.  But  Mrs.  Carter  stood  looking  after 
her  for  an  instant ;  then  she  turned  and  sighed 
— a  little  pathetic  sigh  with  a  smile  in  it.  She 
had  longed  to  have  a  daughter  of  her  own,  and 
happy  the  girl  would  have  been  had  she  had 
her  for  a  mother.  Although  some  people  had 
said  that  she  treated  her  boys  from  their  early 
youths,  as  if  they  were  exceedingly  good  jokes, 
they  themselves  could  not  have  imagined  any 
deeper  love  or  affection  than  they  had  received 
from  their  "  Mumsy,"  as  they  had  called  her 
from  babyhood. 

Mrs.  Carter  had  adored  her  good-looking 
husband  during  his  life-time,  and  when  after  his 


Patrick  Explains.  341 

death,  she  discovered  irrefutable  evidence  that 
other  women  had  loved  him  also,  she  had  passed 
it  over  without  bitterness  on  the  ground  that, 
of  course,  they  could  not  help  it,  poor  things ; 
and  she  had  gone  on  adoring  his  memory  just 
the  same,  even  if  her  grief  had  been  tempered 
a  little  by  her  discovery.  She  had  not  changed 
to  a  pessimist  in  the  least,  but  believed  fully 
in  human  goodness,  and  her  ability  to  detect 
worth.  Her  sense  of  humor  made  her  a  deadly 
foe  to  snobbery  and  affectation.  And  she  had 
practically  put  this  test  to  herself. 

If  she  had  a  daughter,  she  would  have  been 
glad  enough  to  have  welcomed  her  son's  tutor 
for  a  son-in-law,  and  what  was  good  enough 
for  her  daughter,  should  have  been  good  enough 
for  anyone  else. 

Hart  would  have  been  surprised  if  he  had 
known  how  widely  his  guarded  secret  was  sus- 
pected, and  what  allies  he  had  won  for  himself 
without  an  effort  on  his  part. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  DISCOVERY. 

ONE  Sunday  afternoon  Newton  and  Heaphy, 
and  Betts  and  Congreve,  started  off  for  a  walk. 
It  was  the  day  for  it.  The  atmosphere  was  so 
clear  that  the  distant  highlands  near  the  coast 
stood  up  against  the  sky,  clearly  outlined  in  a 
shade  of  deeper  blue.  Each  breath  stung  one 
to  quick  exertion.  The  road  that  was  mud  the 
day  before,  was  hardened  to  stony  ruts,  here 
and  there  crossed  by  the  frozen  remains  of  a 
half-melted  drift.  The  ringing  of  a  church  bell 
sounded  in  the  still  air  as  clear  as  the  note  of  a 
crystal  jar. 

The  four  young  men  tramped  their  way  down 
the  road  toward  the  canal,  Betts  evidently  tak- 
ing much  pleasure  in  shattering  the  white, 
brittle  ice,  that  gathered  tight  as  drum-heads 
over  the  dry  hollows  in  the  road. 

"  Did  you  read  Sim's  poem, '  The  Last  Leaf '  ?  " 
342 


A  Discovery.  343 

said  Betts.  "  It  begins,  '  I  wandered  by  a  little 
frozen  rill.'  Does  n't  he  look  as  if  he  were 
making  notes  for  something  now  ?  We  '11 
have  it  later.  Let 's  give  him  an  idea — some- 
thing fetching.  I  never  can  write  anything  in 
the  verse  line  without  thinking  of  a  tune  for 
it." 

"  And  you  don't  know  but  two  tunes,"  put  in 
Congreve,  " '  Yankee  Doodle,'  and  '  Three 
Cheers  for  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue.'  " 

"  Patriotic,  anyhow,"  returned  Betts.  "  I  '11 
bet  I  can  hum  '  Old  Nassau  '  through  without 
a  break." 

"  Start  her  up,"  said  Congreve.  "  We  '11  have 
a  marching  quartet." 

Betts  happened  to  strike  the  right  key,  and 
the  three  others  joined  in. 

"  Now,  I  call  that  singing,"  he  exclaimed, 
breathless,  after  a  minute  or  two  of  noble 
effort. 

"  Rather  too  much  bass,"  returned  Congreve, 
throwing  a  handful  of  frozen  snow  at  Hart. 
Then  he  turned  to  Heaphy.  "  Pat,  you  wild 
Irishman,  you  sing  like  an  angel, — but  one  with 
a  very  bad  cold." 

Heaphy  grunted  good-humoredly. 


344  A  Princetonian. 

When  they  reached  the  bridge  across  the 
canal,  all  four  leaned  over  the  railing,  and 
looked  down  at  the  cold,  blue  water,  with  the 
fringe  of  ice  along  the  shore. 

"  Let 's  go  into  the  lock-keeper's  and  get  a 
glass  of  cider,"  suggested  Putney. 

"  Have  to  go  you,"  said  Congreve.  "  Strange 
thing,  nobody  has  ever  written  a  poem  about 
cider." 

"  Come  along,  you  '11  get  an  inspiration." 

"  I  think  we  '11  stay  here  and  wait  for  you," 
said  Hart,  leaning  back  against  the  bridge. 

Heaphy  and  he  watched  the  others  go  up 
and  knock  at  the  door  of  the  little  yellow 
house.  Close  by,  a  big  curly  dog  was  tugging 
furiously  at  his  chain. 

"  If  either  of  you  chaps  want  this  animal, 
you  can  come  here  and  get  him,"  shouted 
Betts.  "  He 's  gentle  and  he 's  kind,  and  you  '11 
hardly  ever  find  a " 

Just  then  a  woman  came  to  the  door  and 
Betts  and  Congreve  went  inside  the  house. 

"  You  might  as  well  decide  to  come  up  to 
New  York  with  me  next  Tuesday,  Pat ;  I  want 
you  to  meet  Mrs.  Carter  and  it  will  be  sort  of 
a  break  for  you  ;  now  don't  be  a  donkey." 


A  Discovery.  345 

"  I  am  not  much  on  society,"  Heaphy  an- 
swered.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  'd  make  the  breaks  my- 
self. Honestly,  girls  frighten  me  to  death." 

"  Then  what  under  the  sun  was  the  use  of 
your  taking  dancing  lessons  this  winter  ?  " 

"  Just  to  see  whether  I  could  learn  or  not," 
Heaphy  laughed.  "  But  I  think  I  will  come  up 
with  you — perhaps." 

"  Betts  and  Ransom  are  going  ;  I  think  we  '11 
have  a  good  time." 

"  I  seem  to  have  a  better  time  now  than  I 
used  to,  anyhow,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  'm  mighty 
happy,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

Hart  did  n't  answer.  Just  then  the  two 
young  men  came  out  of  the  house. 

"  Harder  than  rocks,"  said  Congreve.  "  I 
would  n't  let  Betts  drink  any  of  it.  Come  on  ; 
let 's  go  back  to  college.  I  'm  catching  chil- 
blains." 

Mrs.  Carter  had  not  placed  Newton  and 
Madge  beside  one  another  at  the  table.  Miss 
Hollingsworth  sat  between  Heaphy  and  Pro- 
fessor Rankin  ;  Heaphy  was  on  Mrs.  Carter's 
left  and  Hart  on  her  right-hand  next  to  Miss 
Bliss.  Then  came  Harold  Carter  and  a  little 


346  A  Princetonian. 

girl  in  a  high-necked  frock.  Tad  Elliott  sat  at 
the  head  of  the  table.  Danforth  was  not  pres- 
ent and  Betts  could  n't  come  at  the  last  minute. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  like  your  red-headed  friend 
very  much,"  Mrs.  Carter  said  in  a  low  voice  to 
Newton.  "  He  is  n't  a  beauty,  but  he  has  the 
right  ring  about  him.  He  seems  to  be  getting 
on  very  well  with  Madge  too.  Really,  New- 
ton," (Mrs.  Carter  had  exercised  the  privilege  of 
addressing  him  by  his  first  name  without  ask- 
ing permission)  "  there 's  the  finest  girl  / 
know." 

She  followed  his  glance  across  the  table,  and 
gave  a  little  smile  to  herself.  She  also  saw 
that  Madge  had  caught  the  glance  he  gave,  and 
lowered  her  eyes. 

"  You  know  it 's  rumored  she  's  going  to  be 
engaged  very  shortly,"  Mrs.  Carter  said  in  a 
whisper. 

"  Is  that  true?  "asked  Newton  rather  huskily. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  myself,"  Mrs. 
Carter  returned  in  the  same  low  voice.  "  I 
don't  think  she  '11  marry  for  a  long  time  yet. 
She  's  only  twenty-two  and  that  's  young  for 
now-a-days.  But  pardon  me,  Miss  Bliss  was 
saying  something  to  you." 


A  Discovery.  347 

Newton  turned  to  his  right-hand  neighbor. 

Heaphy  was  evidently  under  the  spell  of 
Madge's  presence  ;  in  fact  in  the  first  two  min- 
utes of  conversation  with  her  he  had  lost  all  of 
his  self-consciousness.  Just  now  he  was  relat- 
ing something  in  which  Hart  figured  evidently, 
and  Madge  was  looking  across  the  table  with 
a  strange  expression  on  her  face.  Mrs.  Carter 
noticed  it,  and  catching  Mary  Bliss's  eye, 
deliberately  winked  at  her — a  wink  of  pure 

j°y- 

The  play  was  a  strange  choice,  perhaps,  to 
be  made  for  a  rather  juvenile  party  to  attend. 
It  was  the  well-worn  extravaganza,  "  Evange- 
line,"  but  Mrs.  Carter  said,  "  It  is  old  enough 
to  be  respectable,  no  matter  how  you  dress  it." 
So  she  had  secured  two  boxes  that  were  sepa- 
rated from  one  another  by  a  low  railing  scarcely 
reaching  to  the  elbow  of  a  person  seated  in 
either  one.  The  curtain  had  not  gone  up  when 
they  arrived,  and  placing  Professor  Ransom, 
Madge,  and  Newton,  in  the  box  with  herself, 
the  rest  of  the  party  went  in  the  next. 

During  the  first  act  Newton  and  Miss  Hol- 
lingsworth  saw  a  little  of  what  was  going  on  on 
the  stage.  They  had  begun  a  whispered  con- 


348  A  Princetonian. 

versation  ;  once  their  eyes  had  met,  and  for  the 
first  time  a  thrill  stronger  than  ever  Newton 
had  felt  before,  and  very  different,  made  him 
stop  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence.  It  was  as  if  he 
had  seen  so  deep  into  the  gray  eyes  that  he  had 
caught  lurking  there  something  that  touched 
him  with  the  deepest  feeling  of  his  life.  Hope 
rose  within  him  !  The  idea  of  a  possibility 
that  gave  him  courage,  and  bade  him  dare  to 
think.  Madge  apparently  did  not  notice  the 
sudden  break  in  what  he  had  been  saying. 

Someone  entered  very  silently  and  spoke  to 
Mrs.  Carter  at  just  this  moment. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  I  saw  you  in  the  box, 
and  thought  I  'd  come  in  for  a  minute." 

Despite  the  assumption  of  ease  in  his  manner 
Danforth  was  a  little  perturbed  as  he  bent  over 
Madge's  shoulder  after  his  first  greeting.  Al- 
though she  had  not  extended  her  hand  to  him, 
he  picked  it  up  familiarly,  whispering  in  her 
ear,  "  Having  a  good  time,  Madge  ?  " 

"Thank  you;  a  very  good  time,"  she  said, 
withdrawing  her  fingers. 

"  Hallo,  Hart,"  Danforth  said,  as  if  he  had 
just  discovered  Newton's  presence,  "  had  n't 
seen  you  in  the  shadow.  What  do  you  think 


A  Discovery.  349 

of  this  new  play  ?  First  production,  you  know. 
Some  pretty  girls,  eh  ?  " 

Madge  was  biting  her  lips  with  anger. 

"  Glad  you  admire  them,  Danforth,"  said 
Hart. 

"  Well,"  responded  the  latter,  "  I  did  n't 
know  whether  you  did  or  not.  Look  at  the 
one  at  the  end  ;  she  's  been  doing  nothing  but 
gaze  at  this  box  since  she  came  on  the  stage." 

Hart  looked  down  the  line  of  gauzy  sprites 
who  a  moment  before,  had  been  kicking  reck- 
lessly about.  They  had  just  come  to  a  halt  to 
allow  another  band  of  bespangled  creatures  in 
very  diaphanous  garments,  to  come  on  the 
stage. 

"  There  she  is,  the  one  on  the  left,"  said 
Danforth  pointing. 

It  was  only  by  the  greatest  effort  that  New- 
ton could  control  himself  or  keep  from  leaping 
to  his  feet.  A  chill  came  over  him,  and  his 
breast  suddenly  grew  cold.  There  stood 
Mabel  Van  Clees  with  a  fascinated  expression 
on  her  face,  as  her  blue  eyes  looked  straight  at 
him.  It  was  horrible.  Mabel  here,  in  these 
surroundings  !  Dressed  in  that  state  of  little 
or  nothing  !  It  was  like  a  frightful  dream. 


35°  A  Princetonian. 

"  I  hope  you  '11  know  one  another  the  next 
time  you  meet,"  observed  Danforth  facetiously. 
Then  he  leaned  closer.  "  I  could  swear  she 
knows  you  right  enough  now,  old  man,  eh?  " 

Newton  could  have  felled  him,  he  was  afraid 
to  turn  his  head  to  look  at  him  for  fear  that 
his  rage  would  get  the  upper  hand. 

"  I  wish  you  would  stop  your  whispering 
behind  my  back,  Mr.  Danforth  ;  I  don't  think 
it  is  very  polite,"  said  Miss  Hollingsworth. 

The  girl  on  the  stage  had  swayed  a  little 
uneasily,  the  one  next  to  her  caught  her  by 
the  wrist  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear. 
They  were  standing  near  the  wings,  and  the 
end-girl  stepped  backwards  out  of  sight,  some- 
one caught  her  and  carried  her  out. 

"  Oh  !  Did  you  see  that  poor  creature  faint 
behind  the  scenes  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Carter  of  Pro- 
fessor Ransom.  "  Tight  lacing,  I  suppose." 

"  Or  a  very  sudden  cold  from  exposure,"  said 
the  Professor  in  a  whisper. 

Not  three  people  in  the  audience  noticed  it 
however,  and  the  end  fairy  was  not  missed  in 
the  kaleidoscopic  melee  that  followed. 

Danforth  did  not  leave  the  box.  He  kept 
making  little  remarks  to  Madge  in  a  low  tone. 


A  Discovery.  351 

Hart  could  not  hear  them,  but  they  seemed  to 
demand  no  answer,  for,  despite  Miss  Hollings- 
worth's  silence,  they  were  continued. 

At  last  the  curtain  rang  down  on  the  scene 
where  Evangeline  and  her  party,  the  lone  fish- 
erman included,  ascend  into  the  heavens  in  a 
very  jerky  baloon.  Everybody  stood  up  to  go. 
Madge  turned  and  handed  her  cloak  to  Newton 
without  a  word.  He  arranged  it  about  her 
shoulders.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  but  when 
he  had  finished,  she  looked  up  at  him  and 
thanked  him  in  a  whisper. 

The  confusion  that  he  had  been  in  for  the 
last  few  minutes  vanished.  Again  the  great 
feeling  with  hope  arising  within  him,  almost 
made  him  waiver. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Hart  ?  "  asked  a  little  man  in  a 
worn  dress-suit  and  a  shabby  shirt-front.  He 
spoke  in  a  low  discreet  voice. 

"Eh?" 

"  Note  for  you,  sir,  from  Miss  Sybil  Carryl." 

"  What  ?"  said  Hart,  not  understanding. 

"  The  young  lady  on  the  end,  sir,  told  me  to 
give  you  this." 

Newton  took  the  crumpled  piece  of  paper 
and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 


352  A  Princetonian. 

"  Did  you  see  that  ?  "  observed  Danforth  to 
Mrs.  Carter.  "  Now,  I  call  that  rather  bare- 
faced, don't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Carter  paid  no  attention  to  him.  But 
after  she  had  marshalled  all  the  little  party  into 
a  big  theatre  'bus  backed  against  the  curb,  she 
turned. 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Hart,"  she  said  with  a  nod. 

The  Professor  who  had  been  waiting,  stepped 
into  the  'bus. 

"  Why,  I  thought  he  was  going  with  us,"  he 
observed  to  Mrs.  Carter. 

"  No,  I  did  n't  ask  him,"  returned  Mrs. 
Carter  glancing  at  Madge  who  sat  silently 
beside  Mary  Bliss  holding  her  hand. 

Newton  stood  near  the  entrance  in  a  dazed 
sort  of  way  and  watched  them  leave.  He  did  not 
know  that  Danforth,  standing  a  few  feet  away 
on  the  corner,  was  regarding  him  attentively. 

As  the  'bus  swept  out  of  sight,  he  slowly 
took  the  crumpled  letter  from  his  pocket.  It 
was  written  in  lead  pencil,  but  he  remembered 
the  handwriting  even  to  the  little  flourish  of 
the  capital  letters.  He  read  it  by  aid  of  the 
glaring  electric  light  overhead.  "  Dear  New- 
ton," it  ran,  "  for  old  sake  do  come  and 


A  Discovery.  353 

see  me.  I  am  in  great  trouble  and  need 
help.  Don't  forsake  me,  for  God's  sake, 
don't."  She  had  evidently  had  some  difficulty 
with  the  signature,  for  she  began  "  Yours  affec- 
tionately," and  then  scratched  it  out,  ending, 
"  Yours  truly,  Mabel."  Then  followed  a  post- 
script, giving  an  address  in  a  side  street  not  far 
from  Broadway. 

Newton  folded  the  epistle  carefully  and  put 
it  back  into  his  pocket.  When  he  reached  the 
corner,  for  the  first  time  he  saw  that  Danforth 
was  waiting. 

"  Hallo,"  said  the  latter,  "  let  's  walk  down 
together."  They  crossed  the  street. 

"You  got  your  note  all  right,  old  man, 
did  n't  you,"  Danforth  went  on,  confidingly. 
"  You  're  a  great  one." 

Hart  did  not  even  look  at  him. 

"  Going  to  meet  her?  " 

'"Yes,"  Hart  responded,  "I'm  going  to 
meet  her,  if  I  must  answer  you.  But  I  sup- 
pose  " 

Danforth  interrupted  him.  "  Oh,  I  gave  up 
that  sort  of  thing  long  ago,"  he  said  carelessly. 
"  It 's  none  of  my  business.  I  don't  wish  to  be 
inquisitive  you  know." 


354  A  Princetonian. 

"  No,"  was  the  response.  "  It  is  none  of 
your  business.  And,  see  here  !  this  is  a  corner, 
if  you  are  going  straight  down  the  street,  I  'm 
going  to  take  it.  If  not,  you  'd  better  take  it 
yourself." 

Danforth  flushed.  He  looked  at  the  angry 
face  above  him,  and  affected  to  be  amused. 

"  Good-night,  old  boy,"  he  said,  "  but  take 
care  of  yourself.  There  's  your  corner,  take  it 
if  you  wish  to." 

He  turned  and  walked  slowly  away,  but 
stopping  at  a  lamp-post  he  struck  a  match,  and 
lit  a  cigarette.  Hart  saw  that  he  was  laughing. 
He  could  have  torn  him  to  pieces. 

"  Has  Mr.  Hollingsworth  come  in  this  even- 
ing? "  Raymond  Danforth  asked  of  the  liveried 
man  at  his  club  door,  ten  minutes  after  this 
strange  parting. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  's  in  the  smoking-room." 

Danforth  gave  up  his  hat  and  cloak,  and 
finding  Hollingsworth  sitting  with  some  young 
men  in  a  corner,  he  drew  up  a  chair. 

"  Oh,  I  've  got  a  funny  story  to  tell  you  fel- 
lows," he  began  at  once,  and  with  great  gusto 
he  related  the  events  of  the  evening. 


A  Discovery.  355 

When  he  had  finished  he  turned  to  Kenmore. 

"  That  's  a  pretty  good  joke  on  old  Pop, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  he  said,  eyeing  him  narrowly. 

"  I  don't  see  where  the  joke  comes  in,"  Ken- 
more  answered. 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  it 's  funny  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  think  it  's  extra  funny.  If 
you  had  n't  said  you  saw  it,  I  would  n't  have 
believed  it,  and  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of 
telling  it  to  all  those  fellows  anyhow.  My  sis- 
ter was  one  of  the  crowd  in  that  box." 

No  one  had  laughed  particularly,  and  Dan- 
forth's  amusing  story  had  fallen  rather  flat. 

Heaphy  was  stopping  at  Professor  Ransom's 
sister's  house,  but  Newton  had  taken  a  small 
room  at  a  hotel. 

When  he  reached  it,  he  sat  down  near  the 
window  before  he  struck  a  light.  The  night 
traffic  on  Broadway  roared  below  him,  mingled 
with  the  clang  of  the  cable  cars,  a  few  stray 
notes  of  an  orchestra  playing  dance-music  not 
far  away,  drifted  up  on  the  air.  What  did  Mrs. 
Carter  think,  if  she  had  overheard  what  the 
little  usher  had  said,  and  had  seen  him  accept 
the  note?  Madge  had  not  seen  it,  she  was  too 


356  A  Princetonian. 

far  ahead.  Danforth's  demeanor  had  made  him 
so  angry  that  he  could  not  have  explained  to 
him  even  if  he  had  wished  to.  Striking  a 
match  he  lit  the  gas  and  read  the  note  from 
Mabel  over  again.  Its  bitter  pathos  appealed 
to  him.  He  had  not  intended  to  ignore  it,  of 
course,  but  the  despairing  cry  for  assistance 
aroused  all  the  pity  in  his  breast.  He  would 
go  there  the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Poor 
little  Mabel ! 

He  went  to  bed  at  last,  and  tossed  about 
restlessly.  He  began  to  wish  above  everything 
else  that  the  whole  thing  had  not  occurred.  It 
dashed  the  ambitious  thoughts  that  had  come 
to  him.  It  was  not  until  the  early  hours  that 
he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  PARTING. 

A  FEW  minutes  before  the  eleven-o'clock 
train  started  from  Jersey  City  to  the  West, 
Kenmore  Hollingsworth  walked  into  the  station 
carrying  a  valise  and  a  hat-box.  He  was  bound 
for  Philadelphia  to  usher  at  a  wedding.  Seeing 
that  the  gates  were  not  yet  open  he  stepped  to 
the  news-stand  to  buy  a  paper.  As  he  turned 
to  leave  the  waiting-room  he  gave  a  sudden 
start.  A  young  man  and  a  young  woman  were 
sitting  on  one  of  the  long  seats  with  their  backs 
toward  him.  He  recognized  Hart  at  once.  He 
was  talking  very  earnestly. 

Kenmore  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  and  looked  at  the  girl's  face.  It  was  a 
pretty  face,  but  rather  worn  and  tired.  Her 
blue  eyes  were  gazing  straight  at  Hart ;  they 
were  red  as  if  she  had  lately  been  weeping. 
Her  clothing  was  not  exactly  flashy,  nor  was  it 
357 


358  A  Princetonian. 

quiet.  It  had  a  suggestion  of  cheap  elegance, 
and  had  seen  some  service. 

Her  nervous  hands  were  twisting  together  in 
her  lap,  in  which  lay  a  very  handsome  silver- 
bound  pocket-book  with  a  little  watch  in  one 
corner.  Its  costliness  was  entirely  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  saggy  pair  of  tan  shoes  that  were 
tapping  ceaselessly  on  the  floor.  Her  whole 
attitude  was  one  of  a  person  in  some  mental 
suffering. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  you  with,  I  've 
told  you  that,  Mabel,"  Hart  was  saying.  "  All 
I  wish  to  do  is  to  help  you  all  I  can." 

"  Really,  Newt  dear,  I  have  been  good, — as 
good  as  I  could  ;  and  God  knows  how  I  Ve  paid 
for  being  foolish,  but  I  did  n't  intend  to  do 
wrong ;  I  did  n't,  honestly.  And  when  he  left 
me  in  Pittsburgh " 

"  Damn  him,"  said  Newton  under  his  breath. 

"What's  that?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  When  he  left  me  in  Pittsburgh,"  continued 
the  girl,  "  I  was  like  to  kill  myself,  but  there 
was  a  young  man  at  the  boardin'-house  who 
was  interested  in  the  theatre,  and  he  got  me  a 
place.  Then  I  got  in  another  show,  and  went 


A  Parting.  359 

on  the  road,  and  at  last  I  learned  to  dance  a 
little,  and  so  I  got  engagements  most  of  the 
time.  And  my  name  on  the  bills,  too,"  she 
added.  "  But,  oh  Newt,  it  's  awful ! — honestly, 
dear,  I  thought  I  'd  like  to  die  more  than  once. 
I  would  have,  only  I  dassent  do  it." 

Hart  picked  up  one  of  her  hands  in  his. 
"  But  now,  remember  that  you  are  going  home," 
he  said.  "  I  've  telegraphed  that  you  are  com- 
ing, and  they  '11  welcome  you  no  matter  what 
has  happened.  You  've  got  your  ticket,  and 
there  is  nothing  now  to  worry  over." 

He  feared  an  outburst  of  tears. 

"  But,  oh,  Newt,  there 's  something  else.  I 
was  married  two  years  ago." 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  I  was  honestly  married  to  the  man  whose 
stage-name  I  Ve  got  now,  only  he  did  n't  spell 
it  the  same  way.  He  did  a  song  and  dance, 
and  we  did  a  turn  at  the  sea-side  two  seasons." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  Newton  asked,  glancing 
over  at  the  clock.  Somehow  he  wondered  how 
it  was  that  he  ever  imagined  that  he  loved  her. 
Despite  the  effect  of  the  three  hard  years 
and  more  that  had  passed  since  he  had  seen 
her,  she  was  still  pretty,  or  at  least  fair  to  look 


360  A  Princetonian. 

at  in  a  certain  way,  and  yet  she  did  not  re- 
semble at  all  the  gaily  laughing  girl  that  used 
to  be  the  belle  of  the  Oakland  balls. 

She  had  replied  to  his  question  but  he  had 
not  caught  the  answer. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Mabel  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  is  dead,"  she  repeated,  twisting  her 
hands  a  little  faster  in  her  lap.  "  He  used  to 
drink  pretty  bad  at  times." 

"  Poor  little  Mabel,"  cried  Newton  with  a 
great  burst  of  compassion.  "  Never  mind,"  he 
continued,  "  your  father's  words  in  his  letter  to 
me  were,  '  There  will  always  be  a  home  for  her 
to  come  back  to,  if  she  should  choose  to 
come.'  " 

"  Oh,  thank  God,  dear,  for  that,"  said  the 
girl,  laying  her  hand  on  his  knee. 

Again  Hart  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  Come,  Mabel,"  he  said,  trying  to  be  cheer- 
ful, "  it 's  about  time  for  the  train  to  start." 

He  picked  up  a  bright  new  bag  from  the 
floor,  and  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  as  they 
went  through  the  gate. 

There  were  two  people  behind  them  who 
were  observing  all  this  with  the  greatest  inter- 
est. One  was  Kenmore  Hollingsworth  and 


A  Parting.  361 

the  other  Mrs.  Trevellian,  Raymond  Danforth's 
cousin. 

Newton  and  Mabel  stopped  at  the  steps  of 
one  of  the  day  coaches  on  the  west-bound 
express. 

"You  Ve  got  the  check  for  your  trunk?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Well  then,  I  must  say  good-bye  ;  my  own 
train  starts  at  once." 

"  Newt." 

"  Yes." 

"  Newt,  would  you  kiss  me  good-bye  ?  for 
old  sake's  sake  ?  It  will  help  me,  dear.  Do ! 
Newt,  kiss  me  good-bye." 

She  had  placed  her  hand  on  his  arm,  her 
lips  were  quivering.  He  bent  his  head  and 
kissed  them.  Suddenly  Mabel  saw  that  this 
affecting  parting  had  attracted  some  attention 
— all  the  actress  in  her  was  up  at  once. 

"  Good-bye,  darling,"  she  said  with  a  smile 
meant  to  be  cheerful.  "  Good-bye.  Do  write 
me  soon."  With  that  she  turned  and  before 
Newton  could  overcome  his  astonishment  she 
tripped  lightly  up  the  steps  into  the  car  waving 
her  hand.  But,  as  soon  as  she  had  reached  a 


362  A  Princetonian 

seat,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief, 
and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  As  the 
train  started,  she  looked  tearfully  out  of  the 
window  at  the  platform.  It  was  empty,  Hart 
had  entered  the  next  train  that  was  to  follow 
the  one  on  which  she  left. 

"  I  'm  glad  I  had  money  enough  to  do  that," 
he  said  to  himself  as  he  sat  down.  Then  he 
shook  his  shoulders. 

Everything  he  did  or  thought,  he  wished 
that  he  could  talk  about  or  tell  to  Madge 
Hollingsworth.  He  would  never  tell  of  the 
doings  of  this  day  perhaps,  but  some  time  he 
would  tell  her  of  Mabel.  Since  that  glance 
that  he  had  exchanged  with  Madge  in  the  box, 
he  felt  as  if  he  could  tell  her  that — more  about 
himself  besides.  But  how  strange  Mrs.  Car- 
ter's conduct  had  been  ?  He  was  so  upset  at 
the  time  that  he  had  not  noticed  how  cold  her 
parting  was.  He  could  explain,  of  course,  to 
her  in  a  few  words,  but  would  it  not  be  better 
for  her  to  ask  an  explanation  than  for  him  to 
volunteer  the  information  ?  All  at  once  a 
deadly  fear  came  over  him,  a  fear  that  perhaps 
he  would  never  get  the  chance  to  explain  at  all. 
The  construction  that  Danforth  had  put  upon 


A  Parting.  363 

his  actions,  on  purpose  to  irritate  him  he 
thought,  might  have  been  taken  also  by  the 
others. 

He  did  not  know  that  Kenmore  was  in  the 
next  car,  and  got  out  at  Princeton  Junction 
without  knowing  that  he  had  been  observed. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A   PALAVER. 

HEAPHY  came  down  by  the  afternoon  train. 
He  was  very  enthusiastic  over  everything  that 
he  had  experienced  the  evening  before. 

"  Mrs.  Carter  dropped  Professor  Ransom  and 
myself  at  the  Prof's  sister's,"  said  Heaphy  in 
talking  it  all  over.  "  But  there  was  an  awfully 
funny  thing  happened — you  know  when  we  left 
the  theatre — Hold  on  ;  here  come  some  fel- 
lows, darn  it." 

The  talk  was  interrupted  by  the  noisy  en- 
trance of  Betts  and  Golatly. 

"  You  'd  better  come  over  and  see  that  Uncle- 
Tom's-Cabin  show  to-night,  Pop,  my  boy ;  and 
you  too,  Irish,"  cried  Betts  rumpling  Heaphy's 
hair.  "  Oh,  say,  don't  miss  it.  Last  night  the 
sophomores  raised  the  very  divil ;  and  to-night 
the  whole  college  will  be  there.  They  're  going 
to  introduce  new  features  to  beat  the  band." 
364 


A  Palaver.  365 

Here  it  might  be  well  to  state  that  any  show 
to  be  successful  at  Princeton  must  allow  of 
great  liberties  on  the  part  of  the  audiences  who 
often  decide  that  a  change  of  situations  is  nec- 
essary, and  insist  upon  having  the  play  re- 
written on  the  spot.  An  acquiescence  to  the 
suggestions  of  the  spectators  meant  popularity 
for  the  performance,  and  money  at  the  box- 
office. 

"You  know  the  scene,"  spoke  up  Golatly, 
"  where  Laura,  or  Clara,  or  what-'s-her-name  es- 
capes across  the  ice  pursued  by  a  bull-dog?  " 

"  It  's  a  pack  of  blood-hounds,  in  the  book," 
suggested  Heaphy. 

"  Well,  in  this  case,  Irish,  it  was  one  bull- 
dog, for  I  saw  him  and  counted  him  my- 
self," Golatly  continued.  "  It  was  awfully 
funny  !  Sitting  on  each  cake  of  ice  was  a 
sophomore,  and  they  gallantly  handed  her  from 
one  to  another.  Oh,  yes  !  and  one  of  them 
caught  the  bull-dog,  and  said,  '  Madam,  fear 
not.'  It  was  bully  !  I  just  liked  that  fellow. 
Yes,  and  you  know  where  they  auction  off  Un- 
cle Tom  ?  Well,  the  audience  outbid  Old  Marks 
and  Uncle  Tom  had  to  come  down  and  sit  with 
them.  Then  they  took  him  out  afterwards, 


366  A  Princetonian. 

and  filled  him  up  with  myrrh  and  sweet  incense. 
Come  along  over  to-night." 

"  No,"  said  Hart  shaking  his  head,  "  sorry 
we  can't." 

"  Well,  come  to  Hankins's,  and  I  '11  blow  you 
to  soda  water,"  put  in  Betts  in  despair.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  two  such  clams  !  Come  to  Adams's 
then  ! " 

But  the  two  room-mates  resisted  even  this 
strong  temptation,  and  their  visitors  at  last 
departed. 

"  You  were  going  on  to  say,"  began  Hart, 
after  listening  complacently  to  Betts  kicking 
his  coal-scuttle  down-stairs  out  of  pure  revenge, 
"  You  were  going  on  to  say." 

"  Yes,  I  was  going  on  to  say,  Mrs.  Carter  got 
awfully  sour-ball  on  the  way  home.  She  hardly 
said  good-night  to  us." 

"  Did  she?"  remarked  Hart  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  behaved  awfully  cranky.  Queer, 
was  n't  it  ?  " 

Hart  stood  up  and  poked  the  fire.  Then  he 
turned  and  sprawled  himself  along  the  mantel- 
piece with  his  gaze  on  the  ceiling. 

"  Irish,  old  man,  you  told  me  all  about  your- 
self one  day ;  and  now  I  'm  going  to  tell  you 
something  about  myself — nothing  secret." 


A  Palaver.  367 

"  All?  "  questioned  Heaphy, giving  a  furtive 
glance  at  the  photograph  at  Hart's  elbow. 

"  Now,  don't  be  inquisitive.  I  'm  going  to 
tell  you  something.  I  did  n't  interrupt  you,  you 
know." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Heaphy,  seeing  that  this  was 
very  serious. 

"  Have  you  ever  loved  a  girl  ?  "  asked  New- 
ton suddenly. 

This  was  rather  disconcerting,  and  not  much 
of  a  beginning. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Patrick  returned,  blushing 
up  to  his  hair,  which  was  as  far  as  the  blush 
could  go.  "  I  thought  I  might  have  been  in 
love,  or  was  in  love,  or  hoped  I  might  be  some 
day — oh,  I  don't  know — don't  think  I  ever  was. 
I  told  you  I  did  n't  get  on  very  well  with  the 
girls.  Why  did  you  ask  me  such  a  thing  as  that 
anyhow?"  he  blurted  out  at  last.  Hart  was 
smiling  despite  himself.  "  Ah,  go  on  with  your 
story,"  cried  Heaphy  kicking  at  the  waste-paper 
basket. 

"  That 's  all  I  wanted  to  know,"  Newton  re- 
plied. "Then  you  never  were  engaged." 

"  No  !  "  roared  Heaphy,  "  I  never  was." 

"  I  was  engaged  when  I  came  to  college," 
Hart  began  again,  straightening  himself  a  little. 


368  A  Princetonian. 

Then  he  went  on  to  tell  about  himself,  talk- 
ing in  slow,  very  carefully-worded  sentences. 
He  told  of  his  early  life  in  the  great  open 
prairie ;  of  what  a  strange  man  his  father  had 
been  :  a  man  who  would  read  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment by  the  flickering  candle-light,  and  who 
used  to  quote  Shakespeare  by  the  hour. 

"  I  don't  remember  anything  about  my 
mother,"  Newton  continued ;  "  but  I  knew 
that  she  was  dead  when  we  came  from  some 
city  to  live  in  Kansas,  from  whence  we  moved 
to  Nebraska.  I  believe  I  was  born  in  Cali- 
fornia. Now,  that 's  all  of  the  preface." 

So  he  proceeded  slowly  to  tell  of  the  cloud- 
burst and  the  freshet,  and  the  drowning  sheep 
in  the  corrals,  and  his  father's  death.  And  he 
went  on  to  relate  the  happenings  of  his  life  at 
Oakland.  How  he  had  grown  up  rather  a  waif 
and  stray  ;  but  luckily  cared  for  by  kind  hands 
until  he  could  look  out  for  himself.  Then  he 
told  of  how  Mabel  Van  Clees  came  into  his 
life,  and  the  only  thing  he  left  out  of  the  story 
was  the  way  he  took  Bord  McGovern  with 
Bord's  own  revolver. 

"At  last  I  wanted  to  learn  something,"  New- 
ton said  again,  after  a  pause,  poking  the  fire, 


A  Palaver.  369 

"  and  I  took  to  books.  Then  I  met  those  fel- 
lows in  the  Glee  Club,  Buck  Franklin  and  the 
rest,  you  know,  and  they  prodded  me  so  that  I 
came  to  college." 

"Well,  is  that  all?"  asked  Heaphy  breath- 
lessly. 

"  No,"  returned  Newton.  "  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  night  that  I  returned  from  the  football 
game  in  freshman  year  ?  we  were  on  the  train 
together." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  night  you  broke  the  en- 
gagement with  me  to  meet  you  in  your  room  ?  " 
asked  Heaphy. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Hart.  "  I  don't  believe  I 
ever  begged  your  pardon  for  not  turning  up. 
I  do  so  now." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Heaphy.    "  Go  on." 

"  Well,  that  night  I  received  a  telegram  from 
the  father  of  the  girl  I  was  engaged  to,  [he  had 
not  mentioned  any  names,  by  the  way]  telling 
me  that  she  had  ran  away  with  another  man." 

"  Eh  ?  "  interjected  Heaphy. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Hart,  calmly  and  collectedly. 
"Another  man,  damn  him.  Now  the  strange 
thing  about  it  was,  that  I  felt  sorry  for  her,  but 
could  not  feel  sorry  for  myself.  Something 


370  A  Princetonian. 

else  was  on  my  mind  perhaps — in  fact  was  on 
my  mind."  Again  he  paused. 

Heaphy  began  to  recollect  now  Hart's  strange 
behavior  through  the  winter  months  of  fresh- 
man year.  This  might  account  for  it. 

"  You  did  n't  love  her  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  Hart  returned,  "  long,  long  ago,  I 
found  that  out.  I  would  have  married  her, 
though,"  he  added  quickly,  "  and  she  would 
never  have  known  the  difference ;  of  that  I 
am  well  assured." 

"  Is  that  the  end?" 

"  Not  yet.     Last  night  at  the  theatre " 

Somebody  hailed  their  room  from  outside 
the  window. 

"  Oh,  Pat  Heaphy  !     Oh,  Pop  Hart !  " 

Heaphy  half  arose  and  slowly  turned  down 
the  light. 

"  Sh-h-h,"  he  said  in  a  whisper.  "  Don't 
answer." 

For  full  two  minutes  they  stood  there  in  the 
silence  and  semi-darkness  ;  then  Heaphy  turned 
up  the  light  again. 

"  They  Ve  gone  away  ;  go  on." 

"  I  saw  her  again — she  was  the  end-girl  in 
that  line  of — of  the  ones  in  pink.  She  saw 


A  Palaver.  371 

me  before  I  saw  her,  and  sent  me  a  note.  I 
saw  her  this  morning.  God  !  what  a  story  she 
told  me.  And  an  odd  thing  was,  she  did  n't 
know  really  how  sad  it  was !  And  to  think 
that  I  had  once  thought  I  loved  her! — that 
was  the  strange  part.  I  could  not  persuade 
myself  that  I  had  ever  done  so,  and  I  did  n't, 
really — I  did  n't  know." 

"  Well,"  said  Heaphy,  "  for  the  fourth  or  fifth 
time,  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  She  has  gone  home  to  her  parents.  And 
that 's  the  end  of  it,  I  hope." 

Heaphy  looked  disappointed. 

"  You  have  n't  told  me  everything,  have 
you  ?  " 

"  That 's  all  there  is  to  that.  Honestly,  I  am 
not  hiding  anything  from  you  that  I  can  tell, 
or  that  there  would  be  any  good  in  talking 
about.  Come,  let 's  open  the  window,  and  get 
some  air  into  this  room." 

"  My  dear  Clara,  it  all  goes  to  show  you  that 
men  were  deceivers  ever.  I  will  not  say  that  I 
thought  at  first  that  your  friend,  Mr.  Hart, 
could  not  be  trusted,  but  I  think  really  that 
you  put  too  much  confidence  in  him." 


372  A  Princetonian. 

Mrs.  Trevellian  sank  back  in  the  cushions  as 
if  this  little  speech  had  decided  matters. 

"  And  she  was  the  most  common-looking 
creature,  too,  I  do  assure  you,  my  dear.  And 
the  way  he  kissed  her  on  the  platform  of  the 
station  was  downright  vulgar.  He  did  not  see 
me,  or  perhaps  he  had  sense  enough  not  to 
recognize  me.  Ray  told  me  all  about  the  af- 
fair at  the  theatre,  and  he  said  you  must  have 
noticed  it." 

Mrs.  Carter  had  remained  silent  through  this 
long  speech.  She  contented  herself  with  drum- 
ming on  the  edge  of  her  teacup  with  a  little 
silver  spoon.  She  had  found  out  by  experi- 
ence, being  somewhat  of  a  philosopher,  that  it 
did  not  pay  to  commit  one's  self  altogether 
even  to  one's  best  friend,  especially  if  that 
friend  happens  to  be  a  woman.  So  she 
drummed  on  and  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Trevel- 
lian was  evidently  becoming  a  little  angry. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  going  to  have  him  about 
after  this  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  My  dear  Bertha,"  began  Mrs.  Carter,  chas- 
ing a  lemon  seed  around  in  her  teacup,  "  I  do 
not  think  Mr.  Hart  and  I  will  see  one  another 
again — for  a  long  time.  I  should  think  my 


A  Palaver.  373 

own  feelings  would  be  too  plain  to  need  an 
explanation." 

"  I  think  you  have  been  awfully  imposed 
upon." 

This  time  Mrs.  Carter  drank  her  tea.  She 
did  not  show  really  how  hurt  she  had  been,  but 
she  saw  what  other  people  did  not ;  that  behind 
the  whole  affair  there  was  some  mystery,  some- 
thing that  would  deprive  Hart's  unfortunate 
action  of  its  glaring  vulgarity,  to  say  the  least. 
A  maid  appeared  at  the  door,  and  knocked 
softly  although  it  was  open. 

"  Mr.  Danforth  is  down-stairs.  He  called  for 
Mrs.  Trevellian,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  that  lady  arising. 
"  I  forgot ;  I  had  asked  him  to.  Well,  good- 
bye, dear.  Of  course,  don't  say  anything  about 
what  I  told  you." 

Mrs.  Carter  smiled. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  seriously,  really  ? " 
she  asked.  "  If  you  do,  I  would  merely  repeat 
your  own  words  back  to  you.  Good-bye. 
Every  one  speaks  of  how  well  you  are  looking 
this  year." 

Mrs.  Trevellian  joined  her  cousin  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  stairway. 


374  -A  Princetonian. 

"  I  've  got  something  to  tell  you,  Ray,"  she 
said,  and  before  they  had  left  the  door-step  she 
began  her  recounting. 

"  That  puts  him  out  of  the  game,"  she  said 
as  she  finished. 

"  I  would  never  admit  that  he  was  in  it," 
sneered  Danforth.  This  was  not  exactly  the 
truth,  and  he  knew  it ;  but  it  made  no  matter. 

He  left  Mrs.  Trevellian  at  her  door,  and, 
jumping  into  a  hansom  drove  up  to  his  ath- 
letic club.  This  was  the  only  semi-social  organ- 
ization whose  lists  bore  the  name  of  Mr.  Sharkey 
Sprague  and  that  very  individual  happened  to 
be  leaving  as  Danforth  entered.  The  latter 
gave  him  a  little  tap  on  the  legs  with  his  stick. 

"  Come  back  to  the  bar  and  have  a  drink," 
he  said,  "  I  've  got  something  to  tell  you." 

Sprague  was  intensly  interested  by  the 
recital,  and  looked  wonderous  wise.  The  temp- 
tation to  exercise  his  imagination  and  lie,  grew 
as  he  sipped  his  whiskey. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  enquired 
Danforth,  wiping  his  mouth  on  a  diminutive 
napkin. 

"  It  only  confirms,"  Sharkey  responded, 
"  something  I  had  heard  about  our  friend,  Pop 


A  Palaver.  375 

Hart,  Esq.,  and  that  is  that  he  was  married 
when  he  came  to  college.  That 's  it !  I  remem- 
ber it  now  ;  I  had  it  on  good  authority — I 
can't  tell  you  from  whom,  you  know,  but  I  '11 
bet  you  five  hundred  dollars  that  woman  was 
his  wife.  Now  let  me  see.  He  had  deserted 
her,  or  she  had  deserted  him.  Something  like 
that.  There  had  been  some  trouble." 

"  I  thought  he  had  some  secret  about  him 
when  he  was  at  college,"  Danforth  remarked, 
"and  tried  to  get  it  out  of  him  just  for  fun; 
but  he  'd  never  drink  enough  to  talk  about 
himself.  He  always  grew  parliamentary  and 
argumentative,  no  matter  how  much  he  put 
away.  Well,  I  'm  going  out  to  look  at  my 
mail-box,"  he  added.  "  Glad  to  have  met  you, 
old  man." 

Sprague  left  the  club,  and  Danforth  opened 
several  letters  hurriedly.  One  was  an  invita- 
tion to  meet  several  dames  de  theatre  at  a  little 
supper,  and  seeing  that  it  was  going  to  be  a 
very  quiet  affair,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  an  ac- 
ceptance. Then  he  wrote  another  note  asking 
Kenmore  Hollingsworth  to  dine  with  him,  and 
sent  that  note  off  by  a  messenger. 

For  the  third  time,  the  story  of  the  parting 


376  A  Princetonian. 

at  Jersey  City,  was  recounted  when  Dan  forth 
told  it  all  (and  what  Sharkey  Sprague  had  said 
also)  to  Kenmore  over  the  dinner-table.  Hol- 
lingsworth  listened  attentively. 

"  Who  saw  them  at  the  station  ?  Did 
Sprague  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Trevellian." 

"  I  say,  Raymond,  have  you  any  idea  that 
Sharkey  was  telling  the  truth?  " 

"  I  have  a  very  good  authority  that  I  can't 
mention,"  replied  Danforth  unblushingly. 

"  Then  my  belief  in  human  nature  is  badly 
jolted,"  Kenmore  remarked  with  a  certain  bitter- 
ness. "  And  a  man  whom  I  believed  in  thor- 
oughly has  proved  himself  a  villain,  that 's  all." 

"  Melodramatic,  but  apt,"  laughed  Danforth. 
"  Come,  let 's  go  to  the  play." 

"  No,  thanks,  don't  care  to,  to-night.  I  Ve 
got  to  read  some  law." 

Kenmore  dropped  his  cigarette  into  his  cof- 
fee cup,  and  left  the  dining-room.  Four  days 
later  he  happened  to  meet  Mrs.  Carter  at  an 
afternoon  reception.  They  succeeded  in  get- 
ting into  a  corner  where  no  one  could  listen  to 
their  conversation,  and  of  course  they  spoke  of 
the  subject  that  was  uppermost  in  their  minds. 


A  Palaver.  377 

"  I  Ve  heard  something  new  about  Mr.  Hart," 
Mrs.  Carter  observed,  "  and  something  very 
strange." 

"  I  Ve  heard  something,  also,"  Kenmore  re- 
sponded. 

"  What  's  that  ?  Tell  me,  please.  Do  you 
mean  his  being  with  that  girl  at  the  station  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Kenmore  ;  "  I  saw  that 
myself." 

"  You  did  !     Then  what?  " 

"  Why,  that  he  was  married  to  her  and  she 
ran  away  from  him,  or  something  like  that." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carter,  suddenly  put- 
ting down  her  plate  of  ice-cream  on  a  marble 
table-top  almost  hard  enough  to  break  it. 
"  Oh  !  "  she  repeated.  Then  she  paused  with 
her  finger  at  her  lips.  "  Poor  fellow,  I  feel  so 
sorry  for  him  !  " 

"  Well,  I  think  he  should  have  told  somebody 
about  it." 

"  Do  people  generally  tell  such  things  about 
themselves  ?  "  remarked  Mrs.  Carter  quietly. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A   CALL. 

HEAPHY  had  put  on  his  best  suit  of  clothes 
one  Thursday  morning,  and  was  looking  at 
himself  in  the  glass  when  Hart  caught  him 
at  it. 

"  You  're  getting  to  be  a  regular  prink,  Pat." 
"  How  does  it  fit  in  the  back?"  Heaphy  re- 
sponded, trying  to  stroke  himself  between  the 
shoulders. 

"Great.  What  are  you  sprucing  up  for?" 
"  I  told  you  last  night  I  was  going  up  to 
make  some  calls  to-day.  Going  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Carter,  — er —  and  — er —  Miss  Hollingsworth — 
she  asked  me,  you  know.  Why  don't  you  come 
along?  " 

"  What  train  are  you  going  to  take  ?  " 
"  The  one  that  starts  in  about  six  minutes. 
I  've  got  to  get  a  move  on  me.     Tell  you  all 
about  it  when  I  get  back." 
378 


A  Call.  379 

When  Newton  heard  the  train  starting  he 
wished  sincerely  that  he  was  on  it,  and  the  idea 
grew  upon  him  so  strongly  that  he  decided  that 
he  would  go  up  at  one  o'clock  and  drop  in  at 
Mrs.  Carter's  anyhow — afterwards,  who  knows 
somewhere  else.  So,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
a  month,  he  cut  the  lecture  on  Roman  law,  and, 
after  running  half  a  mile  on  top  of  a  hastily 
bolted  luncheon,  he  caught  the  train  for  the 
city  by  a  narrow  margin. 

Heaphy  had  arrived  in  town  very  early,  and 
had  taken  his  mid-day  meal  at  a  little  restaurant 
down-town  that  had  the  bill-of-fare  hung  every- 
where on  the  walls,  and  had  lace  curtains  and 
pies  in  the  front  windows.  Then  he  had  spent  an 
hour  or  so  at  the  Academy  of  Design,  where  an 
exhibition  was  being  held,  and  about  half-past 
two  he  concluded  that  it  was  late  enough  to 
expect  to  find  anybody  in.  So  he  walked  over 
to  the  avenue,  and  with  some  trepidation  rang 
the  Hollingsworth  bell.  An  immense  con- 
course of  people  lined  the  sidewalks  on  either 
side.  Hastily  constructed  grand  stands  had 
been  built  at  various  points,  and  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  he  had  wedged  himself 
through  the  crowd.  The  great  east  side  and 


380  A  Princetonian. 

the  great  west  side  had  met  at  a  common 
centre. 

It  was  the  occasion  of  a  great  civic  and  mili- 
tary parade  for  which  the  city  had  been  pre- 
paring for  some  time,  in  commemoration  of  an 
important  event  in  its  early  history. 

"  Miss  'Ollingsworth  is  not  at  'ome,  sir,"  said 
Hawkins,  opening  the  door. 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,  indeed,"  said  Heaphy, 
spilling  his  cards  on  the  doorstep  in  his  efforts 
to  extract  them  from  his  vest  pocket. 

Hawkins  helped  him  gather  them  up,  and 
Heaphy  plunged  into  the  crowd  and  fought  his 
way  over  to  Madison  Avenue,  where  he  took 
the  down-town  car  for  Mrs.  Carter's.  It  was 
very  quiet  in  the  little  square  that  was  filled 
with  nurse-maids  and  children  moving  about 
inside  the  railings — several  little  unprivileged 
ones  peering  in  at  them  from  the  outside. 

Mrs.  Carter  was  at  home,  "  and  would  be 
down  in  a  minute."  Heaphy  seated  himself 
on  a  chair  near  the  window  in  the  drawing- 
room.  He  was  not  kept  waiting  long,  for  in 
less  than  three  minutes  Mrs.  Carter  put  in  her 
appearance.  She  had  been  going  out ;  in  fact, 
her  carriage  was  at  the  door,  but  she  removed 


A  Call.  381 

her  bonnet,  in  order  to  prevent  this  fact  from 
being  apparent. 

"  Come  over  and  sit  by  me  on  the  sofa,"  she 
said,  "  and  we  can  have  a  chat." 

It  was  very  natural  that  their  conversation 
should  soon  get  around  to  the  subject  of 
Heaphy's  room-mate.  Heaphy  did  not  recog- 
nize the  fact  that  Mrs.  Carter  herself  was 
responsible  for  it,  however,  but  she  had  deter- 
mined to  find  out  all  he  knew  on  the  subject, 
and  in  this  she  succeeded  far  beyond  her  ex- 
pectations. Little  by  little  she  managed  to 
get  Newton's  story  second-hand,  even  to  the 
recounting  of  the  meeting  at  the  theatre,  and 
his  sending  the  poor,  unhappy  girl  home  to  her 
parents. 

"  Do  you  know  her  name  ? "  Mrs.  Carter 
asked  after  he  had  finished. 

"  He  did  n't  tell  me  that,"  Heaphy  said, 
''and  I'm  afraid  that  I  shouldn't  have  said 
anything  about  it  at  all." 

"  I  'm  very  glad  you  did,  my  dear  boy,"  was 
Mrs.  Carter's  rejoinder  to  this,  "  and  I  think  he 
would  be  also." 

For  some  reason  she  seemed  much  elated. 
Her  visitor's  stay  was  a  long  one  ;  but  as  soon 


382  A  Princetonian. 

as  he  had  gone,  she  put  on  her  bonnet  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  ordered  the  coachman 
to  drive  to  Mrs.  Hollingsworth's. 

"  I  don  't  think  I  can,  ma'am,"  the  man  an- 
swered with  his  finger  at  his  hat  brim.  "  The 
avenoo  is  closed,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot,"  Mrs.  Carter  said  to  herself. 
"  I  '11  go  there  to-morrow." 

It  was  just  at  this  very  moment  that  Hart 
had  succeeded  in  grinding  his  way  through  the 
crowd  to  Miss  Hollingsworth's  door.  Hawkins, 
the  pompous,  declared  that  the  ladies  "  was  hall 
hout,"  and  took  his  cards,  glancing  at  them 
superciliously. 

After  spending  a  quarter  of  an  hour  elbow- 
ing along  the  sidewalks,  and  only  progressing 
seven  or  eight  blocks,  Newton  determined  to 
cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  street.  Seizing  a 
moment  when  a  policeman's  back  was  turned, 
he  made  the  opposite  corner  without  much 
trouble.  But  now  the  thundering  of  drums, 
and  the  throbbing  of  brass-bands  was  in  the 
air.  There  was  a  swaying  of  the*  multitude, 
and  headed  by  a  cordon  of  mounted  police,  the 
Seventy-first  Regiment  Band  swept  down  the 
avenue.  As  far  up  as  one  could  see  were  lines 


A  Call.  383 

of  helmets  and  bayonets,  with  here  and  there  a 
flag  slanting  upwards,  or  a  mounted  officer  ris- 
ing above  the  rank  and  file. 

Newton  had  never  seen  so  great  a  gathering 
of  armed  men,  and  the  scene  impressed  him. 
It  meant  more  to  him  than  merely  a  holiday 
procession  of  holiday  soldiers  ;  it  was  just  this 
same  class  of  men  that  had  gone  to  fight  the 
battles  at  the  front :  clerks  and  mechanics, 
artisans  and  laborers,  "  butchers,  bakers,  and 
candlestick-makers,"  and  young  men  of  means 
and  leisure, — the  citizen-soldiery  of  the  North. 

Before  him  stood  a  man  with  gray  hair  and 
erect  bearing  ;  every  time  the  colors  passed,  he 
doffed  his  hat.  In  the  lapel  of  his  coat  showed 
a  little  bronze  button. 

Hart  was  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  corner 
house.  It  was  crowded  with  children  and  work- 
a-day  people,  and  the  side  street  was  jammed 
with  trucks  and  wagons,  from  which  vantage- 
spots  many  were  watching  the  parade.  But  his 
own  thoughts  had  wandered  from  it,  and  he 
began  to  realize  how  much  he  had  wished  to 
see  Madge  Hollingsworth.  The  disappointment 
grew  on  him,  and  although  he  knew  the  pro- 
ceeding would  not  be  exactly  conventional,  he 


384  A  Princetonian. 

made  up  his  mind  to  call  again  later  in  the 
evening. 

Just  then  a  commotion  in  the  side  street  at- 
tracted his  attention,  and  he  saw  that  a  hansom 
cab  had  become  wedged  in  between  two  large 
vans  that  were  packed  about  by  the  crowd. 
The  driver  was  evidently  attempting  to  urge 
his  horse  forward  in  order  to  turn  him  around, 
and  to  this  the  people  objected.  All  at  once 
Newton  got  a  glimpse  of  the  occupant  of  the 
hansom — a  tall  girl  dressed  in  dark  blue  was 
half-standing  up,  and  trying  to  attract  the  at- 
tention of  the  driver.  The  people  standing  on 
the  steps  must  have  wondered  what  had  sud- 
denly seized  the  tall  young  man  who  had  not 
joined  in  the  general  conversation,  for  he  had 
lifted  an  excited  little  negro  out  of  the  way, 
and,  in  one  jump,  made  the  walk  below. 

The  girl  in  blue  was  Madge  Hollingsworth! 
He  could  see  that  she  was  getting  out  of  the 
hansom. 

An  American  crowd  is  proverbially  good- 
natured,  but  there  were  some  harsh  words,  that 
he  did  not  hear  or  heed,  thrown  at  him  as  he 
pushed  his  way  up  to  where  she  was  standing 
with  the  mob  pressed  in  all  about  her.  Her 


A  Call.  385 

face  was  pale,  and  although  a  little  frightened, 
she  was  perfectly  collected.  He  was  close  to 
her  before  she  recognized  him.  Then  she 
colored  a  little. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  dreadful  pack?"  she  said.  "  I  Ve 
been  trying  to  cross  the  avenue  for  an  hour, 
and  this  man  insisted  upon  driving  in  here.  I 
was  going  to  try  it  on  foot,  but  now  all  I  want 
to  do,"  she  concluded,  giving  a  glance  about 
her,  "  is  to  get  out  of  this." 

"  Take  my  arm,  please,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  help 
you." 

She  obeyed  him  without  a  word,  and  her  self- 
dependence  appeared  to  leave  her  in  a  measure, 
although  she  smiled  at  him  bravely.  The 
crowd  extended  a  good  distance  back  into  the 
street,  but  by  using  a  great  deal  of  forbearance 
and  tact,  besides,  of  course,  a  fair  amount  of 
strength,  Hart  managed  to  work  his  way  toward 
the  edge,  Madge  following  closely  after  him. 
He  had  not  met  with  any  serious  trouble  in  his 
passage  until  he  ran  across  two  or  three  burly, 
thick-set  men  dressed  not  like  laborers,  or 
working  people,  but  belonging  to  that  class  of 
shabbily-prosperous  whose  manner  of  living  it 
might  be  hard  to  guess.  One  meets  them  at 


386  A  Princetonian. 

race-courses,  and  at  all  large  public  gatherings. 
They  generally  begin  their  conversation  with 
"Say,"  and  address  a  stranger  as  "young 
feller." 

"What  t'ell  you  tryin'  to  do,  young  feller?" 
snarled  the  largest. 

Hart  had  accidentally  or  intentionally  pushed 
him  with  his  elbow. 

"  Here,  don't  get  gay." 

"  Stand  one  side,  then,  please,"  said  Hart, 
"  and  let  this  lady  pass." 

"  He 's  got  his  goil  with  '  im,  Pete,"  put  in 
one  of  the  others  with  a  leer.  "  Say,  excuse  me ; 
but  she  's  a  peach." 

"  If  the  loidy  wants  to  get  by,  just  let  her  say 
so,"  continued  the  big  one,  "but  I  don't  want 
nuffin'  from  you,"  he  continued. 

"  Stand  to  one  side." 

"  Ah,  go " 

Hart  caught  him  by  the  fat  fist  he  had 
clenched  up  and  twisted  it  outwards.  The 
man's  sinews  must  have  cracked  the  whole 
length  of  his  forearm  ;  he  doubled  over  on  one 
knee,  and  Hart  pushed  him  aside. 

"  Not  a  word,  now,"  he  said  ;  "  not  one  word, 
not  a  word, — please" 


A  Call.  387 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,"  whispered  Miss  Hollings- 
worth,  letting  go  his  arm. 

The  heavy  man  had  recovered  himself,  and 
he  and  Hart  stood  there  looking  at  each  other. 
The  latter's  size  seemed  to  grow,  however, 
and  the  heavy  man's  arm  felt  paralyzed.  A 
policeman  came  wedging  his  way  through  the 
crowd. 

"  What 's  the  row  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Nothing,"  said  Hart,  "that  I  know  of;  we 
want  to  get  out  of  this  push." 

He  joined  Miss  Hollingsworth,  who  was 
standing  on  the  sidewalk,  and  they  walked 
from  the  mob  just  as  a  new  brass-band  with  a 
triumphant  blare  passed  the  corner.  Madge 
had  not  taken  his  arm  again,  but  walked  beside 
him. 

"  That  was  splendid,"  she  said  timidly. 

He  looked  down  at  her  and  smiled. 

"  That  sort  of  a  man  would  never  make  much 
trouble,"  he  said.  "  Don't  you  think  it  would 
be  better  to  go  up-town,  and  cross  ahead  of  all 
this?" 

They  had  reached  the  corner  of  Sixth 
Avenue,  and  were  walking  up.  It  was  a  very 
brilliant  day.  The  white  steam  from  the 


388  A  Princetonian. 

engines  of  the  elevated  trains  caught  the  sun- 
light as  it  whisked  about  the  corners  of  the 
streets.  They  had  passed  by  the  head  of  the 
procession  some  blocks  before  they  turned  to 
the  eastward,  and  the  crowd  had  considerably 
thinned  when  they  reached  the  door  of  the 
Hollingsworth  house. 

"  Well,  won't  you  come  in  and  make  your 
call  now?"  Miss  Hollingsworth  said.  "It's 
still  very  early." 

Hart  bent  down  and  picked  up  a  bit  of  white 
pasteboard  from  one  of  the  steps. 

"  Hallo,  Heaphy  's  been  here." 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  missed  him,"  Madge  returned. 
"  I  think  he  is  fine.  But  come  in,  won't  you, 
and  I  '11  make  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

They  were  standing  inside  the  vestibule. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  on  with  what  you  were 
saying  ?  "  she  continued.  "  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  have  been  regularly  cross-examining  you." 
She  gave  a  little  laugh.  "  Goodness,  we  forgot 
to  ring  the  bell." 

Hart  leaned  back  and  pressed  the  electric 
button  with  his  thumb. 

"  You  know,  we  are  going  South  to-morrow. 
I  may  not  see  you  for  some  time." 


A  Call.  389 

A  temptation  that  he  could  not  restrain 
mastered  him  completely.  "  Miss  Hollings- 
worth,"  he  said,  "  you  have  asked  me  what  the 
woman  is  like  who  has  influenced  my  life,  out 
of  the  kindly  interest  of  your  heart ;  I  know 
that,  well.  Long  ago  I  determined  that  some 
day  I  would  tell  you.  Do  not  think  it  is  be- 
cause my  ambition  has  soared  too  high,  or  that 
I  presume  upon  this  moment.  It  is  you.  It 
will  always  be  you." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  wide-open  eyes, 
her  arms  held  straight  bes'de  her.  Slowly  they 
lifted  and  her  head  lowered.  She  took  a  half 
step  forward.  The  big  door  of  the  hall-way 
opened,  and  Hawkins,  the  pompous,  stood 
there  in  full  view.  As  if  nothing  had  occurred 
Newton  followed  Madge  in.  His  feelings  could 
not  be  described.  They  were  so  intense  as  to 
have  an  absolute  unreality  about  them.  He 
could  dare  all  now — face  everything.  All  the 
long  pent-up  words  trembled  on  his  lips,  but 
the  smug-faced  butler  was  standing  behind 
him  as  if  waiting  to  assist  him  with  his  over- 
coat. 

"  Mrs.  'Ollingsworth  wants  to  see  you  up- 
stairs at  once,  Miss,"  he  said,  speaking  quickly 


390  A  Princetonian. 

to  Madge  as  if  he  had  forgotten  to  deliver  the 
message  before.  At  this  very  moment  Mrs. 
Hollingsworth's  deep  voice  called  down  the 
staircase  : 

"  Madge,  dear,  won't  you  come  up  right 
away;  right  away,  dear?" 

Hart  took  a  step  forward. 

"  Shall  I  go  ?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

"  No,  no,  don't,  don't,"  Madge  answered 
quickly  in  almost  a  whisper.  "  Yes,  mamma," 
she  called  up-stairs.  Then  she  turned,  and  her 
eyes  met  his — it  was  for  a  second  only. 

"  Won't  you  step  in  the  drawing-room,  sir?" 
said  the  butler.  Hart  followed  him  in  and 
almost  fell  into  one  of  the  easy  chairs.  The 
revulsion  of  feeling  was  so  great  that  his  eyes 
were  nearly  filled  with  tears.  How  he  longed 
to  tell  her  again,  to  repeat  it  over  and  over. 
What  had  he  done  to  deserve  this  great, 
grand  thing ! 

Five  minutes  passed,  ten  minutes  by  the 
slow-ticking  clock  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
and  then  Hawkins  appeared. 

"  Miss  'Ollingsworth  is  not  coming  down,  sir. 
She  begs  to  be  excused." 

Newton    staggered    to   his    feet.       His    first 


A  Call.  391 

temptation  was  to  grasp  the  butler  by  the 
throat ;  to  tell  him  he  lied  ;  to  kill  this  bearer 
of  false  tidings.  But  he  controlled  his  trem- 
bling voice. 

"  Did  Miss  Hollingsworth  say  anything  else  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  She  begs  to  be  excused." 

The  trite  expression  sounded  to  Hart  as 
might  the  death  sentence  of  the  judge  to  the 
trembling  prisoner  in  the  dock,  who  had  ex- 
pected an  acquittal.  A  chill  went  through  and 
through  him.  Quite  without  meaning,  the 
words  kept  repeating  themselves  over  and 
over,  so  that  he  almost  found  them  on  his 
tongue.  "  She  begs  to  be  excused."  "  She 
begs  to  be  excused."  God  !  What  did  it 
mean  ? 

Carrying  his  overcoat  across  his  arm  he 
plunged  down  the  steps  to  the  street.  Not 
until  he  reached  the  corner  did  he  place  his  hat 
upon  his  head.  Some  little  ragamuffins  trun- 
dling a  cart  filled  with  the  debris  of  boxes 
looked  at  him  curiously.  A  well-dressed  man 
stopped  as  if  he  were  going  to  speak  to  him, 
but  just  then  Hart  lifted  his  elbow  from  the 
stone  railing  against  which  he  had  leaned  for 


392  A  Princetonian. 

an  instant.  He  threw  back  his  shoulders  and 
started  walking  down  the  street.  It  had  made 
no  difference  to  him  which  direction  he  had 
taken. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

IN    SEARCH    OF    REST. 

MADGE  had  been  a  little  upset  by  the  per- 
emptory message  and  the  verbal  order  from 
the  second-story,  but  she  was  puzzled  and  con- 
fused at  the  reception  that  she  met  when  she 
entered  her  mother's  little  boudoir,  the  win- 
dows of  which  fronted  on  the  street.  Mrs. 
Hollingsworth  beckoned  her  in,  and  closing 
the  door  spoke  in  a  deep  whisper. 

"  I  saw  you  crossing  the  street,  Madge,"  she 
said.  "  Did  you  ask  that  young  man  to  stop 
here  ?" 

The  strangeness  of  the  whole  proceedings 
had  caused  her  to  flush  angrily.  Coming  so 
close  after  the  unexpected  denouement  in  the 
vestibule,  it  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
stand.  Suddenly  she  saw  that  Kenmore  was 
standing  at  one  of  the  windows  looking  out 
into  the  street.  She  stepped  across  to  him, 
and  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders. 
393 


394  -A  Princetonian. 

"  Ken,  Ken,"  she  said,  "  what  does  all  this 
mean  ?  Something  has  happened.  Tell  me 
what  it  is  ?  Oh,  tell  me — don't  be  silent  any 
longer  !  " 

Madge,  Madge,  dear,"  answered  Kenmore, 
putting  his  arms  around  his  sister's  waist, 
"  nothing  has  happened;  really  there  is  noth- 
ing the  matter.  Why  mother  is  so  dramatic  I 
don't  know,  but  it  was  enough  to  frighten  you. 
Come,  let  's  sit  down." 

He  pinched  her  ear  playfully,  and  Madge 
obeyed  him  as  though  she  were  a  child. 

"  We  just  want  to  tell  you  a  little  some- 
thing; that  's  all,"  he  continued,  heading  off 
his  mother's  words.  "  And  it  is  n't  anything 
of  much  importance,  either.  Mother  has  an 
idea  that  she  does  n't  wish  Hart  to  come  to 
the  house." 

"  Why,  why  ?"  questioned  Madge,  grasping 
Kenmore's  hand.  "  Go  on,  go  on." 

"  Because,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Hollingsworth, 
who  could  contain  herself  no  longer,  "  because 
he  is  a  low  fellow,  and  his  behavior  has  been 
outrageous." 

Madge  arose  from  the  sofa;  a  great  light 
was  in  her  eyes,  and  her  lips  were  colorless. 


In  Search  of  Rest.  395 

"  He  's  not  a  low  fellow,"  she  said  slowly, 
looking  at  her  mother.  "  You  spoke  hastily." 

What  would  she  not  have  given  to  have 
Newton  there ;  to  have  walked  quietly  over  to 
him,  the  way  she  would  have  done,  not  to  have 
thrown  herself  into  his  arms,  but  to  have  stood 
by  his  side  with  his  fingers  clasped  in  hers. 

"  Madge,  Madge,"  interrupted  Kenmore, 
quietly,  "  don't  let  us  have  a  scene.  Let  's 
stop  all  this.  The  whole  thing  is  this — mother 
is  angry  because  Pop  Hart  is  married  and  never 
saw  fit  to  tell  us  about  it." 

"  Did  you  say  that  he  was  married  ?  "  Miss 
Hollingsworth  spoke  as  calmly  and  collectedly 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  importance.  To 
all  outward  appearances  she  had  scarcely  an 
interest  in  the  news,  but  she  had  turned  stone- 
cold.  Before  her  wide-opened  eyes  she  could 
see  nothing  but  shifting  colors,  and  such  a  great 
pain  came  through  her  heart  that  it  seemed  as 
though  she  were  falling,  and  could  not  gain  her 
breath.  Kenmore  had  begun  to  smile,  and  this 
was  occasioned  by  a  glimpse  of  his  mother's 
face.  If  such  a  dignified  grande  dame  as  Mrs. 
Hollingsworth  could  look  foolish,  she  certainly 
did. 


396  A  Princetonian. 

"  Mr.  Hart  deceived  us  shamefully,"  she 
said.  "  He  was  married  all  the  time,  and  his 
wife  was  on  the  stage  here  in  New  York. 
Humph!  probably  supporting  him." 

Her  mother's  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  a 
vast  darkness  from  a  distance.  If  the  room 
had  been  better  lighted,  it  would  have  been 
easy  to  see  that  everything  was  not  right  with 
Madge.  Her  face  was  too  expressionless. 

"  Hawkins,"  called  Mrs.  Hollingsworth, 
opening  the  door;  she  had  pressed  the  bell  a 
minute  since,  "  will  you  tell  the  young  man 
down-stairs  that  Miss  Madge  begs  to  be  ex- 
cused." 

"  Yes,  'um." 

Madge  turned  to  her  mother.  Her  lips 
parted  in  a  mirthless  smile.  "  Thank  you," 
she  said. 

' '  Where  are  you  going,  dear  ? ' '  asked  Mrs. 
Hollingsworth. 

"  I  'm  just  going  to  my  room,"  and,  with- 
out turning  again,  Madge  ascended  the  stairs 
to  her  own  apartments.  She  closed  the  door, 
and  stood  there  with  both  hands  clasped  above 
her  heart ;  then,  without  a  cry  or  a  moan,  she 
pitched  forward  onto  the  soft  carpet. 


In  Search  of  Rest.  397 


"  Where  under  the  sun  are  you  going  ?  You 
look  like  a  ghost."  Newton  stopped  and  ex- 
tended his  hand. 

"  Why,  hallo,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  not  going 
anywhere  in  particular." 

Fred  Minton  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  somewhere  and  have  a 
drink,  old  man  ?  "  he  said. 

Hart  pulled  himself  together. 

"  No,  thanks,  old  boy;  have  n't  got  time." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  said  that  you  were 
going  no  place  in  particular." 

"  Did  I  ?" 

Now,  when  a  man  talks  like  this,  it  should 
be  perfectly  apparent  that  for  the  nonce  he 
prefers  his  own  company  to  yours  or  anybody's 
else.  So  Minton,  a  little  angry,  said,"  Well, 
glad  to  have  met  you,"  curtly,  and  went  on  his 
way.  Hart  did  likewise,  not  worrying  as  to 
whether  he  had  been  rude  or  not.  He  walked 
all  the  way  to  the  ferry,  and  just  by  luck  hap- 
pened to  catch  a  train. 

A  dim  fire  was  burning  in  the  open  grate, 
for  the  day  had  been  quite  chill. 


398  A  Princetonian. 

When  Heaphy  awoke,  long  after  midnight, 
he  happened  to  look  out  into  the  little  study. 
There  sat  his  room-mate  before  the  fire,  with 
his  head  bowed  over  his  folded  arms. 

Are  n't  you  ever  coming  to  bed  ?  "  Patrick 
grunted,  sleepily. 

"  Not  just  yet  a  while;  good-night." 

In  a  big  room  in  a  house  on  Fifth  Avenue,  a 
girl  with  tear-reddened  eyes  lay  wide  awake. 
She  had  broken  down  at  last,  thank  God,  into 
the  natural  recourse  of  womankind  —  tears. 
The  noisy  carts  were  rattling  over  the  stones, 
and  the  morning  traffic  had  begun  before 
she  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  as  they  drove  to  the  ferry 
to  take  the  Virginia  express,  Mr.  Hollings- 
worth  turned  to  his  wife. 

It  's  a  good  thing  we  are  starting  now,  my 
dear,"  he  said.  "  Another  few  days  in  the 
city  and  this  young  lady  would  be  ill." 

He  pointed  his  finger  at  Madge  who  sat  op- 
posite to  him.  She  smiled  a  wan,  tired  little 
smile. 

When  Heaphy  stirred  about  quite  early,  as 
was  his  habit,  he  noticed  a  few  strange  things. 


In  Search  of  Rest.  399 

Hart  was  gone  already,  his  bed  had  not  been 
disturbed,  and  the  photograph  was  missing 
from  its  usual  place  on  the  mantel-piece. 

Heaphy  was  intelligent.  The  picture  of  the 
solitary  figure  sitting  before  the  fire  the  previ- 
ous evening ;  the  visit  to  New  York — Poor  old 
Pop! 

Heaphy  saw  it  all,  or  at  least  he  thought  he 
did,  as  plainly  as  if  he  had  been  told.  He 
gave  a  sigh. 

"  Now,  I  suppose  that  I  've  got  to  make 
believe  I  am  blind  !  " 

He  looked  into  the  ashes  of  the  grate  and 
poked  about  there  with  the  tongs. 

"Well,  he  did  n't  burn  it,  that  's  evident," 
he  remarked  to  himself.  "  This  is  a  sad  warn- 
ing to  me. ' '  He  stood  there  thoughtfully,  then 
he  dropped  the  tongs  with  a  clatter. 

At  one  of  the  morning's  lectures  Golatly 
probed  Betts  with  a  lead-pencil. 

"  Pop  looks  as  though  he  had  lost  his  last 
friend,"  he  said. 

"  He  certainly  has  something  on  his  mind," 
was  the  reply.  "  I  wonder  what  's  gone 
wrong." 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

A   FEW    DEVELOPMENTS. 

THE  Okalilli  Club  is  an  organization  that 
owns  some  thousands  of  acres  along  the  low 
sea-coast  of  South  Carolina.  The  majority  of 
its  members  are  New  Yorkers  who  are  of  a 
sporting  turn  of  fancy.  In  a  wilderness  of 
pine  and  scrubby  underbrush  some  five  miles 
from  the  nearest  railroad  they  have  erected  a 
shingle  palace  of  vast  dimensions.  It  looks 
out  of  place  in  its  entire  loneliness,  but  when  it 
is  filled  with  members  and  their  families,  gaiety 
reigns.  The  country  abounds  in  quail  and  tur- 
key, and  occasionally  a  deer  may  be  seen  from 
the  club-house  window.  Even  when  the  North 
is  shrouded  in  snow,  the  water  on  the  Okalilli 
beach  tempts  many  bathers. 

It  was  an  unpromising,  rainy  day  and  the 
smoking-room  was  quite  crowded  with  groups 
sitting  about  the  tables.  No  ladies  were  pres- 
400 


A  Few  Developments.  401 

ent,  and  there  was  a  vinous  odor  in  the  atmos- 
phere. Mr.  Hollingsworth,  senior,  and  a 
young-looking  man  with  gray  hair  and  mous- 
tache sat  talking  at  a  table  near  the  fireplace  in 
which  a  cheerful  blaze  was  roaring. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Halsey,"  observed  Mr. 
Hollingsworth,  "  this  is  no  time  for  putting 
matters  off.  I  think  that  there  is  something 
certainly  very  odd  about  the  whole  trans- 
action." 

"  Well,  it 's  plain  to  me,"  returned  the  gray 
man,  "  that  somebody  learned  the  value  of 
this  property  about  the  same  time  we  did. 
Good  phosphate  lands  don't  go  begging,  you 
know,  and  I  thought  that  we  were  the  first  in 
the  field.  You  see,  the  people  who  started 
this  little  company  did  it  just  to  sell  out  ; 
but,  by  Jove  !  they  did  n't  know  what  they 
owned." 

"  That  's  the  way  with  a  great  many  smart 
people,"  laughed  Mr.  Hollingsworth.  "  Look 
here,  do  you  know,  I  think  that  you  'd  better 
go  down  there  to  Florida  right  away;  then 
stop  here  on  your  way  back.  I  won't  shoot  all 
the  birds." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  decide." 

36 


402  A  Princetonian. 

"  What  did  you  say  was  the  name  of  the 
person  who  bought  that  majority  of  stock  ?  " 

"  The  name  was  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy," 
said  Mr.  Halsey.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  him,  and  I  've  only  met  his  representa- 
tive; but  the  fact  is,  I  don't  think  he  wants  to 
sell.  To  change  the  subject,  how  is  Miss  Hol- 
lingsworth  this  morning  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  little  better,  but  not  very  well. 
Did  too  much  this  season,  I  think." 

"  By  Jove  !  "  ejaculated  Halsey,  suddenly, 
"  came  near  getting  myself  in  a  mess.  When 
I  left  New  York  night  before  last  I  saw  Mrs. 
Archie  Carter,  and  she  entrusted  me  with  a 
note  for  your  daughter.  Tell  her  I  'm  sorry 
not  to  deliver  it  to  her  in  person." 

Mr.  Hollingsworth  took  the  letter ;  put  it  in 
a  pocket  of  his  shooting-coat,  and  promptly 
forgot  all  about  it. 

"  Pat,  what  are  you  going  to  do  when  it  's 
all  over?"  asked  Hart  of  his  room-mate  as 
they  were  dressing  one  morning.  Heaphy, 
who  was  shaving  in  the  next  room,  did  not 
reply  at  once.  His  razor  was  making  a  very 
audible  sign  that  it  was  dull.  Heaphy  was 


A  Few  Developments.  403 

muttering,  so  Newton  waited  a  minute,  and 
repeated  his  question. 

"  I  may  go  South  for  a  time,"  was  the  an- 
swer at  last,  "  down  to  that  place  in  Florida 
where  I  spent  my  last  vacation.  Got  some 
property  there  ;  something  that  with  good 
management  would  make — er — will  make,  a 
pot  of  money." 

"  What  an  avaricious  person  you  are,  Irish." 

"  It  isn't  that,"  returned  Heaphy,  "  I  want 
to  make  it  myself.  This  is  something  I  just 
tumbled  on  to.  I  'm  going  to  try  to  make  it 
pay." 

There  came  a  click  at  the  little  letter  slide  in 
the  door. 

"Anything  for  me?"  inquired  Patrick, 
looking  into  the  room,  and  mopping  his  face 
with  a  wet  towel. 

"  No,  I  'm  the  lucky  one.  Hallo,  it  's  a 
letter  from  Van  Clees." 

Newton  broke  it  open.  It  was  a  long  letter 
and  he  read  it  hastily.  In  the  first  place  it  was 
not  dated  Oakland,  but  from  another  town  in 
Nebraska — Red  Rock,  a  place  that  had  a  flour- 
ishing future.  Mr.  Van  Clees  stated  that  he 
had  sold  out  and  opened  a  new  store  here,  and 


404  A  Princetonian. 

was  doing  a  good  business  ;  that  he  and  his 
wife  were  perfectly  happy,  and  that  Mabel  was 
well  and  a  great  comfort  to  them.  He  spoke 
of  how  she  had  changed,  and  how  contented 
they  were;  and  how  much  they  owed  to  Hart. 
But  the  gist  of  the  letter  was  in  the  latter  part 
of  it,  and  when  Hart  came  to  it,  he  read  it 
over  twice.  It  conveyed  information  of  the 
utmost  importance,  for  it  stated  that  on  the 
quarter-section  of  supposedly  useless  land, 
Newton's  sole  inheritance  from  his  strange 
father,  surface  coal  had  been  discovered,  and 
that  a  company  had  offered  forty-five  hundred 
dollars  down  for  it.  In  commenting  on  this 
offer,  Mr.  Van  Clees  bluntly  stated  that  in  his 
opinion  it  was  not  worth  "  a  red  cent  more," 
and  advised  him  to  close  at  once. 

Forty-five  hundred  dollars  seemed  a  tremen- 
dous sum !  Heaphy  had  watched  him  reading. 

"  Well,  what  's  up  ?  "  he  asked,  as  Hart  sat 
there  in  silence. 

"  Irish,  I  need  your  advice.  Listen." 
Newton  read  the  epistle  through  from  be- 
ginning to  end. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  this  Van  Clees  ?  " 
asked  Heaphy,  after  he  had  finished. 


A  Few  Developments.  405 

"  As  honest  as  they  make  them." 

"  Well,  then,  I  'd  take  his  advice,  and  close 
the  bargain." 

' '  What  shall  I  do  with  the  money  ? ' ' 

When  you  get  it,  come  to  me.     I  think  I 
can  show  you  how  to  invest  it." 

Well,   whoever  thought    that   you   would 
develop  into  a  promoter." 

"  Well,  I  think  I  know  what  I  'm  talking 
about.  You  stick  by  me." 

"  I  '11  stick  by  you.  Hallo,  there  goes  the 
bell." 

The  occupants  of  the  rooms  along  the  en- 
tries could  be  heard  rousing  out  at  the  sound. 

Newton  and  Heaphy  joined  a  group  of  early 
risers  who  were  walking  toward  the  chapel,  and 
who  felt  under  no  necessity  to  make  undue 
exertion  to  reach  there  before  the  doors 
closed. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  the  effect  of 
that  bitter  day  that  had  seared  his  soul  had  not 
left  its  trace  on  Newton's  character  and  appear- 
ance. He  had  kept  up  by  mere  force  of  will 
for  some  time,  but  there  were  moments  when 
it  required  every  force  that  he  could  command 
to  shake  off  the  soul-weariness  and  depression. 


406  A  Princetonian. 

His  face  wore  the  look  of  the  sadness  that  en- 
dures. Kenmore  had  not  been  down  to  Prince- 
ton, nor  had  he  written  to  him  for  over  a 
month.  There  was  no  explanation  needed  ; 
he  thought  he  understood  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ALLIES. 

THE  seniors  had  finished  singing,  but  such  a 
grand  night  was  it  that  the  groups  lying  under 
the  elms  or  seated  on  the  benches,  had  not 
broken  up.  Occasionally  some  one  of  them 
would  light  a  match,  and  a  spurt  of  flame 
would  illuminate  the  smoker's  face. 

"  Here  's  a  bench;  let  's  sit  down,  you  fel- 
lows," said  Golatly.  "  Just  about  hold  us  all. 
Here,  Pop,  you  take  the  end,  then  I  '11  sit 
next  to  you  and  lean  on  you." 

The  bench  held  seven  comfortably.  They 
were  Hart,  and  Congreve,  and  Golatly,  and 
Jimmie  James,  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy,  Betts, 
and  Charlie  Townes. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Golatly,  as  he  almost 

shoved  Newton  off  the  end  of  the  bench  with 

the  force  of  his  leaning,  "  that  '  Where,  oh, 

where,  are  the  grave  old  seniors,'  and  that  ref- 

407 


408  A  Princetonian. 

erence  to  the  wide,  wide  world,  in  slow  time, 
always  makes  me  feel  gulpy,  despite  the  '  by 
and  by,  we  '11  go  out  to  meet  them  '  verse  that 
follows  it.  Lord  Harry,  just  think;  there  are 
only  two  more  weeks  of  it,  and  then  we  will  be 
back  numbers." 

"  You  mean  latest  editions.  Terence, 
you  're  losing  your  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things,"  put  in  Betts. 

"  Oh,  you  're  way  off,"  spoke  up  Congreve. 
"  It  is  his  non-sense  of  the  unfitness  of  things 
that  makes  him  funny." 

"  Phew,  he  's  getting  epigrammatic  and  ana- 
lytical," said  Golatly,  trying  to  reach  Simeon 
with  his  foot.  "  That  comes  from  trying  to 
get  advertisements  for  the  Nassau  Lit. ' ' 

"  As  an  ex-editor  of  The  Tiger,  I  should  n't 
think  you  'd  want  to  bring  literature  into  the 
question.  I  '11  leave  it  to  the  two  other  edi- 
tors. Let's  hear  from  The  Princetonian; 
they  've  become  real  busy  since  they  took  on 
the  dignity  of  a  daily  publication." 

Charlie  Townes  and  Heaphy  were  both  on 
the  staff  of  the  college  paper,  but  neither  of 
them  saw  fit  to  reply  to  this,  so  Congreve  went 
on. 


Allies.  409 

"  You  say  I  'm  getting  analytical,  Ter- 
ence," he  said.  "  Let  's  go  over  and  analyze 
some  Milwaukee." 

"  Oh,  it  's  too  fine  here,"  said  Golatly. 
"  Just  move  about  an  inch,  Pop,  if  you  want 
to  be  accommodating." 

"  Did  any  of  you  fellows  go  to  Tad  Elliott's 
wedding  ?  "  asked  Jimmie  James. 

Came  right  in  the  middle  of  examina- 
tions," answered  Townes.  "  I  should  think 
he  might  have  set  another  date.  Hear  Buck 
Franklin  was  his  best  man." 

"  Buck  wrote  to  me  he  was  coming  up  for 
his  triennial, ' '  said  Hart,  speaking  for  the  first 
time. 

"  There  '11  be  a  whole  lot  of  last  year's  class 
back,  too,"  said  Congreve,  standing  up  and 
stretching  himself  ;  "  lordy,  don't  I  hate  to 
leave  this  dear  old  hole." 

After  some  more  conversation,  Golatly,  who 
had  had  his  feet  braced  up  against  the  trunk  of 
an  elm,  succeeded  in  upsetting  the  bench,  and 
the  whole  party  adjourned  across  the  street. 

Mrs.  Carter  had  deemed  it  very  strange  that 
she  had  received  no  answer  from  Madge  to  the 


410  A  Princetonian. 

letter  she  had  sent  by  Girard  Halsey,  especially 
as  she  understood  from  him  that  it  had  been 
delivered.  The  Hollingsworths'  stay  at  Oka- 
lilli  had  extended  over  a  month,  and  when  they 
had  returned  to  the  North  they  had  spent  but  a 
few  days  in  town  and  then  hastened  to  Hilltop. 
But  Mrs.  Carter  generally  stayed  in  the  city 
until  summer  was  quite  well  advanced.  She 
had  not  known  of  the  Hollingsworth  home- 
coming until  after  they  had  left  for  their 
country  place,  and  of  Kenmore  she  had  seen 
nothing  for  a  long  time.  She  was  seated  read- 
ing one  sunny  afternoon — it  was  really  too  fine 
a  day  to  be  indoors,  a  fact  she  was  acknowl- 
edging to  herself — when  the  butler  brought  up 
a  card.  It  had  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thadeus  Elli- 
ott's name  on  it. 

"  The  dear  things,"  Mrs.  Carter  exclaimed, 
and  she  hurried  down  to  meet  them. 

They  had  just  returned  from  their  honey- 
moon, and  Mary  looked  as  happy  as  Tad 
looked  proud. 

"  Oh,  do  you  know  that  Madge  Hollings- 
worth is  in  town,"  Mary  said.  "  I  wish  you 
could  have  been  at  my  wedding  just  to  have 
seen  how  she  looked." 


Allies.  411 

Mary  Bliss  had  that  honest,  unfeigned  admi- 
ration that  some  women  have  for  other  wom- 
en's beauty.  Unfortunately,  owing  to  the 
death  of  an  aged  relative,  Mrs.  Carter  had  not 
been  able  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  in  the 
little  church  at  Orange. 

"  I  think  that  Madge  was  looking  rather 
pale,"  remarked  Tad. 

"  Well,  it  was  very  becoming  to  her,"  put  in 
Mary,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  You  know 
the  bridesmaids  all  wore  pink." 

"  I  've  got  a  bone  to  pick  with  Madge," 
said  Mrs.  Carter.  "  She  never  answered  a  let- 
ter I  wrote  her.  But  I  suppose  it  was  nothing 
of  importance." 

"  I  '11  bet  she  never  received  it,"  said  Mary, 
off-hand.  "  She  never  said  anything  to  me 
about  it." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  hold  of  her?" 
asked  Mrs.  Carter,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Tad,  "  she  's  go- 
ing to  dine  with  us  to-night.  Why  won't  you 
dine  with  us  too;  just  an  informal  little  din- 
ner  " 

"  Listen,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Carter  ;  "  why 
won't  you  all  dine  here  with  me  ?  " 


412  A  Princetonian. 

"  That  's  a  good  scheme,"  said  Tad,  surren- 
dering amicably.  "  It  was  Mary's  first  chance 
to  act  as  chaperone,  but  I  daresay  she  '11  fore- 
go it." 

Well,  then,  wait  a  minute  while  I  write  a 
note.  I  '11  send  it  off  at  once." 

Mrs.  Carter  jumped  up  and  hurried  across  to 
her  desk.  She  scribbled  away,  and  all  at  once 
interrupted  herself. 

Don't  say  anything  about  that  letter,  you 
two,"  she  admonished,  pointing  her  penholder 
in  their  direction ;  and,  smiling  to  herself,  for 
she  had  caught  sight  of  a  little  tableau,  "  oh, 
don't  mind  me." 

By  the  time  the  messenger  had  arrived  the 
Elliott's  had  departed,  and  Mrs.  Carter  had 
gone  out  for  a  walk  in  the  park  opposite  her 
dwelling. 

The  dinner  went  off  very  nicely,  but  Mrs. 
Carter  noticed  that  Madge  was  looking  a  little 
bit  thin,  although  she  said  that  she  was  very 
well  indeed,  and  declared  that  she  had  the  very 
pleasantest  time  in  the  South.  As  Tad  smoked 
his  cigar,  Mrs.  Carter  remained  at  the  table 
with  him,  and  the  two  girls  strolled  into  the 
other  room. 


Allies.  4 1 3 

"Where's  Raymond  Danforth  ? "  Mrs. 
Carter  asked. 

"  Oh,"    replied    Tad,    in     a    half -whisper, 

he  's  got  his  final  congt,  and  went  back  to 
his  first  love." 

"  Who  'sshe  ?" 

Mademoiselle  Monte  Carlo."   . 
Oh,  he  'd  have  gone  back  to  that  anyhow. 
He  was  never  a.  homo  domesticus — is  that  proper 
Latin  ?  " 

The  newly-wedded  pair  did  not  stay  very 
long,  and  when  they  were  alone,  Mrs.  Carter 
made  Madge  sit  down  on  the  sofa  beside  her. 

"  Now,  young  lady,  "  she  said,  "  I  want  to 
know  why  you  did  n't  answer  my  letter." 

"  What  letter,  dear  ?" 

"  Why,  the  letter  I  sent  to  you  by  our 
friend,  Mr.  Halsey. " 

"  I  never  got  it  in  the  world." 

"  Well,  it  was  n't  of  much  importance,  per- 
haps. But,  oh,  the  wretch  for  not  giving  it  to 
you !  I  understood  him  to  say  that  he  had  de- 
livered it." 

"  What  was  it  about  ?" 

"  Oh,  just  some  news  and  gossip;  but  prin- 
cipally about  Newton  Hart.  You  know  some- 
body has  been  circulating  tales  about  him ; 


4 '4  A  Princctonian. 

said  he  was  married,  or  had  been  married,  or 
some  such  nonsense.  I  just  wrote  you  to  tell 
you  not  to  believe  it,  if  you  heard  it.  I  don't 
know  why  I  went  to  all  the  trouble —  '  Mrs. 
Carter  hesitated.  "  Yes,  I  do,  too.  It  was 
because  I  thought  you  might  have  been  inter- 
ested enough  to  want  to  hear  it." 

As  she  finished  speaking  she  looked  across 
at  Madge. 

She  was  sitting  rigidly  erect  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap,  but  if  her  face  had  been  pale 
before,  it  was  so  deathly  white  now  that  Mrs. 
Carter  started. 

Madge  had  closed  her  eyes,  and  for  a  minute 
she  sat  there,  and  neither  spoke. 

"  Had  you  heard  that  miserable  story?" 
Mrs.  Carter  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  'd  like  to  know  who  started  it. 
Listen,  dearie." 

She  told  the  tale  that  Heaphy  had  told  her. 
As  she  went  on,  Madge  settled  herself  back  in 
the  cushions  on  the  sofa.  Insensibly  the  tones 
of  Mrs.  Carter's  voice  had  changed  from  those 
of  a  person  who  was  merely  reciting  a  story  to 
those  of  one  pleading  a  cause. 


Allies.  415 

I  :11  tell  you  what  I  'm  going  to  do,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  You  know  my  boys  go  up  to 
Princeton  for  their  examinations — bless  them, 
I  hope  they  pass — I  think  I  '11  give  a  little 
surprise  party  to  Newton  Hart.  He  is  grad- 
uated, you  know,  about  the  same  time.  Why 
won't  you  come  down  with  me  ?  Don't  say 
no!  Do  come!  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Madge,  "  I  will  go  with 
you." 

There  was  a  little  quiver  in  her  voice,  and 
although  she  smiled,  her  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears.  Mrs.  Carter  leaned  forward  and  kissed 
her  on  both  cheeks,  and  to  her  surprise  Madge 
threw  her  arms  about  her  neck  and  kissed  her 
twice  more  in  return,  and  then  Mrs.  Carter 
made  a  remark  which  was  apparently  irrelevant, 

He  's  a  dear  good  fellow,"  she  said,  after 
which  there  was  a  constrained  pause. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

AMOR   VINCIT. 

THERE  was  a  familiar-looking  crowd  stand- 
ing near  the  lamp-post  opposite  Reunion, 
although  many  of  the  undergraduates  failed  to 
recognize  them.  There  were  five  in  the  little 
party,  and  they  were  Ned  Bliss,  Tommy  Wil- 
son, Manager  Bishop,  Fred  Minton,  and 
Kenmore  Hollingsworth.  They  belonged  to 
an  organization  that  had  started  with  their 
class,  whose  members  were  pledged  to  return 
at  each  commencement  and  eat  a  dinner  no 
matter  how  it  was  cooked. 

"  Hallo,  here  comes  old  Buck  Franklin. 
Well,  I  '11  be  shot,"  exclaimed  Tommy  Wil- 
son, pointing  down  the  walk  toward  the  rail- 
way station,  "  and  if  that  is  n't  Pop  Hart  with 
him ! ' ' 

"  Yai,  yai!  "  yelled  the  crowd,  in  a  paean  of 
jubilant  welcome.  Soon  Buck,  who  had  grown 
416 


Amor  Vincit.  417 

much  stouter,  was  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd, 
and  Hart  was  shaking  hands  to  right  and  left. 
At  last  Kenmore  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
led  him  to  one  side. 

"  Pop!  shake  hands  with  me." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Did  you  hear  from  Mrs.  Carter,  old  man?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  that  she  was  coming  down 
this  afternoon.  You  ' ve  been  quite  a  stranger. ' ' 

His  manner  was  not  cold,  but  he  appeared 
reserved. 

"  Look  here,  Pop,"  said  Kenmore.  "  I  've 
been  everything  that  you  've  thought  me,  I 
know.  I  feel  as  though  I  ought  to  go  around 
the  corner  with  you  and  have  you  kick  my  coat 
off ;  I  deserve  it. ' ' 

"What  for,  Ken?" 

"  Oh,  just  on  general  principles.  Look  here, 
I  've  got  a  message  for  you.  Mrs.  Archie 
wants  you  to  dine  with  her  to-night.  Those 
two  youngsters  of  hers  are  going  to  be  there, 
and  myself,  and  we  '11  have  a  good  time.  Mrs. 
Carter  's  mad  because  you  refused  her  last  invi- 
tation to  come  to  New  York.  She  's  taken  a 
house  here  for  commencement,  and  I  told  her 
I  was  going  to  make  it  our  headquarters." 


4i 8  A  Princetonian. 

The  end  and  upshot  of  it  was  that  Hart  ac- 
cepted and  turned  back  with  his  hand  on  Ken- 
more's  shoulder  to  join  the  laughing  crowd  who 
were  now  gathered  about  the  college  police- 
man. 

"  Everything  is  so  upset  here,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Carter,  as  she  met  Kenmore  and  Hart 
ascending  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  "  that  I 
don't  know  when  dinner  will  be  ready.  I  don't 
know  what  possessed  me  to  think  of  coming 
down  and  camping  out  this  fashion,  when  I 
could  have  been  comfortable.  I  just  did  it  for 
a  lark,  you  know — just  for  a  lark!  " 

As  she  was  speaking  she  had  grasped  Hart's 
hand  in  one  of  hers,  and  Kenmore's  hand  in 
the  other. 

"  Billy  and  Harold  have  gone  off  for  a  walk, 
and  dinner  won't  be  ready  until  eight;  it  's  not 
much  past  seven  now.  You  know  your  sister 
is  here,"  Mrs.  Carter  went  on,  addressing  Ken- 
more —  "  Miss  Hollingsworth  came  down  with 
me,  you  know,"  turning  to  Hart. 

A  sensation  almost  of  agony  came  to  him  at 
the  mention  of  her  name.  No,  he  could  not 
stay  here  and  meet  her,  after  what  had  passed. 


Amor  Vincit.  419 

It  would  be  more  than  he  could  bear.  But 
what  could  he  do?  What  explanation  could  he 
make  ?  Suddenly  looking  up,  he  saw  through 
the  open  doorway  into  the  dimly  lighted  hall. 
The  tall  figure  of  a  girl  was  standing  on  the 
lower  step  of  the  staircase — she  was  all  in 
white ;  perhaps  she  had  seen  him  and  was  wait^ 
ing  for  him  to  go  before  she  made  her  presence 
known  to  the  others.  Mrs.  Carter  was  still 
talking  in  the  same  breathless  way.  He  was 
about  to  turn  to  her  and  mutter  some  excuse, 
when  the  tall  figure  raised  one  hand,  and 
stretched  it  out  arm's-length  towards  him ! 

He  stepped  across  the  threshold,  slowly  ap- 
proached, arid  took  the  hand  in  both  of  his. 
Something,  he  could  not  tell  what,  impelled 
him  to  raise  it  to  his  lips.  For  an  instant  it 
appeared  as  if  Madge  was  going  to  faint ;  but 
not  one  word  had  they  said. 

All  at  once  there  came  the  click  of  the  front 
gate.  It  was  Mrs.  Carter  and  Kenmore  going 
down  the  street. 

They  were  alone.  Madge  lifted  her  other 
hand  and  placed  it  on  Newton's  head. 

"  It  has  been  a  cruel  wrong,"  she  said. 
"  After  what  you  told  me  and  what  I  said  and 


420  A  Princetonian. 

felt.     I  should  have  seen  you.     I  should  not 
have  believed,  no  matter  what  they  told." 

Newton  had  gained  possession  of  both  her 
hands  by  this  time. 

That  's  it,"  he  cried,  "  no  matter  what 
they  said,  no  matter  what  you  heard,  no  mat- 
ter what  you  thought,  believe  me  now ;  I  love 
you !  I  love  you !  For  four  years  you  have 
been  in  my  heart,  always  in  my  heart — always 
to  be  there  !  " 

In  reply  she  bowed  her  head,  and  kissed  him 
on  the  eyes. 

"  God  bless  you,  dear,"  she  said. 

There  was  no  dinner  that  night  at  all. 
About  eight  o'clock  Mrs.  Carter  returned  from 
her  walk  with  Kenmore.  Two  figures  came 
forward  to  meet  her  out  of  the  shadow. 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  that  I  forgot  to  order 
anything  at  all,"  Mrs.  Carter  laughed.  "  I 
suppose  I  'm  crazy.  But  if  you  two  will  go 
out  for  a  walk,  we  '11  all  go  into  the  kitchen 
and  try  and  get  up  some  supper.  Kenmore 
and  I  have  been  shopping." 

They  had  some  paper  bundles  under  their 
arms. 

When    Hart    and    Madge    returned    to   the 


Amor  Vincit.  421 

house  they  found  rather  a  nondescript  meal 
awaiting  them,  but  Hart  was  anxious  to  speak 
to  Kenmore  alone.  It  was  very  late  before 
they  started  across  the  campus  together.  New- 
ton stopped  near  the  corner  of  the  observatory. 

"  Look  here,  Ken " 

"  Now,  if  you  are  going  to  pay  me  the  com- 
pliment of  practically  informing  me  that  I  am 
as  blind  as  a  mole,  have  n't  got  any  sense,  and 
am  a  general  all-around  jackass,  why  go 
ahead. ' ' 

"  No,  listen " 

"  No,  I  won't  listen;  you  're  just  going  to 
tell  me  that  you  and  Madge  are  engaged  to  be 
married." 

"Well."  He  grasped  Kenmore's  hands  so 
tightly  in  both  his  that  the  latter  winced. 

"  Well,  bless  you,  my  children;  that  's  all 
that  I  can  say,"  returned  Kenmore.  "  Let  go 
my  fingers.  I  'm  going  to  telegraph  the  gov- 
ernor, announcing  the  fact  and  saying  you  've 
got  my  consent." 

Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  saw  that  New- 
ton's eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  No,  seriously,  old  man,"  Kenmore  con- 
tinued, "  I  'm  very  proud  and  glad  of  it." 


422  A  Princetonian. 

Newton's  reply  to  this  was  a  joyous  heartfelt 
sob,  and  arm  in  arm  the  two  walked  on  in 
silence. 

"  You  know  I  can  hardly  believe  it  's  true," 
Newton  said.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  've  done 
to  deserve  it.  Perhaps  I  'd  better  go  to  town 
to-morrow  to  see  your  father. ' ' 

"  Now,  don't  be  in  a  hurry  about  that," 
responded  Kenmore.  "  Wait  until  these  com- 
mencement affairs  are  all  over,  and  then  go 
down  and  tell  him.  Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and 
remember  this,  that  Madge  is  perfectly  able  to 
answer  for  herself,  and  that  you  always  have 
got  me  with  you." 

"  Thank  you,  old  boy.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

TWO   INTERVIEWS. 

THE  photograph  was  back  in  its  accustomed 
place  the  next  morning.  Newton  had  dressed 
himself  and  started  out  for  a  walk  long  before 
the  first  bell  had  begun  to  ring.  He  returned 
to  find  Heaphy  standing  by  the  mantelpiece, 
gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  picture.  He  looked 
rather  guilty. 

"  Well?  "  he  said,  expectantly.  "  You  have 
a  shining  morning  face." 

"  Pat,"  cried  Hart,  "  sit  ye  down  and  listen. 
I  'm  engaged  to  be  married  !  " 

Heaphy  glanced  from  him  to  the  photo- 
graph. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hart;  and  then  the  two  shook 
hands. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  remind  me  of  ? " 
said  Pat  at  last. 

"  No." 

423 


424  A  Princetonian. 

"  Well,  you  remind  me  of  a  captive  bal- 
loon." 

Hart  grinned. 

If  anyone  cut  the  strings,  you  'd  go  right 
up,"  said  Heaphy. 

Newton  gave  him  a  slap  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Irish,  I  believe  you  've  been  there,"  he 
laughed,  to  which  Heaphy  answered  nothing. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  he  asked, 
stopping  Hart's  hurried  pacing  the  room,  by 
getting  in  front  of  him. 

Hart  frowned  a  little. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  could  do  anything,"  he  re- 
sponded, with  a  smile.  "  She  is  going  to  wait 
for  me.  Of  course  we  will  have  to  talk  it  all 
over." 

"You  have  that  forty-five  hundred  dollars  ?  " 
Heaphy  inquired. 

"  Yes,  safe  in  bank." 

"  Invest  a  thousand  dollars  of  it  with  me." 

"  In  what  ?" 

"  In  the  Locala  Phosphate  Co.  I  '11  sell 
you  ten  shares  at  par." 

"  What's  that  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  're  going  to  reorganize  the  com- 
pany. To  tell  the  truth,  I  own  most  of  it,  and 


Two  Interviews.  425 

am  going  to  hang  on  to  it.  Will  you  take  ten 
shares  ?  Say  yes." 

"  Well,  all  right,  then;  yes." 

Hart  was  half  laughing. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Heaphy.  "  This  new 
company  will  need  a  vice-president.  How 
would  you  like  the  job  ?  " 

"  Is  it  an  honorary  position,  or  are  you  talk- 
ing nonsense  ?  " 

"  Honorary  nothing,"  said  Heaphy,  earn- 
estly. "  I  think  the  salary  will  be  about  five 
thouand  a  year." 

"  Irish,  have  you  gone  crazy?  I  don't  know 
any  more  about  phosphate  than  I  do  about 
phosphorus." 

"  Well,  I  'm  going  to  elect  myself  presi- 
dent," said  Heaphy,  sententiously,  "  and  if 
you  and  I  can't  run  that  company,  something 
will  be  the  matter.  Mind  you,  if  you  don't 
earn  your  money  I  '11  discharge  you.  But 
there  's  more  to  it." 

As  his  room-mate  went  on  talking,  Hart 
really  felt  as  though  he  were  the  younger  of 
the  two.  He  could  scarcely  control  his  excite- 
ment. What  would  Madge  say  to  this  ?  " 

' '  What  is  the  '  more  '  ? "  he  asked  at  last. 


426  A  Prince  Ionian. 

"  Why,  just  this.  When  you  speak  to  Mr. 
Hollingsworth,  inform  him  of  this  offer,  and 
'  just  tell  him  that  you  saw  me,' — then  stand 
off  and  watch — er — the  effect." 

Perhaps  nobody  noticed  that  this  com- 
mencement was  different  from  another  com- 
mencement. The  weather  was  no  finer  ;  the 
crowd  was  no  larger  ;  the  music  no  better, 
and  the  speeches  no  brighter.  But  Hart, 
as  he  walked  about  in  his  cap  and  gown, 
could  think  of  but  one  thing,  and  see  but 
one  face,  and  as  that  face  was  beside  him  a 
great  part  of  the  time,  people  talked,  but  it 
did  not  make  any  matter  to  him — he  never 
thought  of  anything  except  his  little  world  in 
which  he  had  begun  to  live.  But  as  he  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  stone  steps  leading  down  to 
the  station  and  looked  back  at  the  old  campus, 
and  realized  what  it  all  meant  to  him,  what  it 
had  brought  to  him,  tears  filled  his  eyes.  It 
was  not  a  farewell  to  his  Alma  Mater,  it  was  a 
parting  truly ;  it  was  the  parting  from  a  friend 
who  wished  one  Godspeed,  but  whose  face 
would  ever  smile  a  welcome,  and  whose  inter- 
est and  love  would  abide  with  one  through  life. 


Two  Interviews.  427 

All  the  close  friendships  that  he  could  not  buy 
for  gold,  all  the  dear  remembrances  and  asso- 
ciations— they  would  belong  to  him,  never  to 
be  lost.  He  paraphrased  his  feelings  in  one 
sentence  that  he  expressed  to  Heaphy,  who 
was  standing  by  his  side. 

"  It  's  not  so  much  what  you  learn  here  that 
counts,"  he  said,  "  but  what  is  given  you." 

"  No  man  ever  left  here,"  responded 
Heaphy,  "  saying'  I  am  sorry  that  I  came,' 
but  that  his  Alma  Mater  could  reply,  'And  so 
am  I,  my  son.'  ' 

This  was  not  Heaphy's  original  expression, 
but  a  quotation  from  one  of  the  speakers  in 
the  morning's  exercises.  Sad  the  lot  of  him 
to  whom  it  could  be  applied  ! 

"  Hallo,  here  they  come,"  Heaphy  cried, 
looking  back  toward  the  station. 

Mrs.  Carter  and  Madge,  and  Billy  and 
Harold  (who,  by  the  way,  had  passed  the  ex- 
aminations), were  coming  down  the  street. 
Madge  and  Mrs.  Carter  waved  their  hands. 
Newton  jumped  down  the  steps  to  meet  them. 
Heaphy  drew  a  long  sigh  and  followed  him 
more  leisurely. 


428  A  Princetonian. 

The  conversation  that  took  place  between 
Mr.  Hollingsworth  and  Newton  Hart  was  cer- 
tainly interesting.  Thus  be  it  recorded. 

It  was  not  without  some  excitement  that 
he  sent  in  his  card  to  Mr.  Hollingsworth  at 
his  office,  for  he  had  gone  there  immediately 
upon  his  arrival  in  town.  It  seemed  a  very  cold 
and  business-like  place  to  conduct  an  interview 
of  this  kind,  but  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  begin ;  and  he  did  so  with  a  plunge  that 
almost  bowled  Mr.  Hollingsworth  from  his 
chair.  At  first  it  appeared  as  if  the  elder 
gentleman  was  going  to  burst  into  some  rather 
strong  language  expressive  of  his  astonish- 
ment, but  he  controlled  himself. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Hart,"  he  said,  "  it  is  certainly 
not  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  certainly  will  not 
seem  strange  in  such  a  circumstance  as  this,  to 
ask  a  few  questions.  I  know  nothing  against 
you.  What  do  you  propose  doing  ?  Have  you 
enough  money  to  support  a  wife  ?  Have  you 
any  relatives  or  property  ? 

"  I  have  none  of  the  former,"  Newton  an- 
swered, "  but  I  have  a  little  ready  money,  and 
a  position  into  which  I  am  going  to  step." 

"  How  much  will  it  pay  you  ?  " 


Two  Interviews.  429 

"  Five  thousand  dollars  a  year." 

"  That  's  a  big  sum  of  money  for  a  young 
man  to  get  at  once. ' ' 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I  shall  try  to  earn  it." 

"  What  is  it,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  The  vice-president  of  the  Locala  Phos- 
phate Co." 

Mr.  Hollingsworth  arose  from  his  chair. 

"  What  under  the  sun  are  you  talking 
about?"  he  asked.  "Are  you  a  stock- 
holder ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  to  a  small  extent." 

"  Well,  what  interest  do  you  represent  ?  " 

"  The  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy  interest." 

This  time  Mr.  Hollingsworth  could  not  con- 
trol an  exclamation. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be "  but  he  stopped  him- 
self. 

"  Who  is  this  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy,  any- 
how," he  asked;  "  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  He  was  my  room-mate  at  college." 

"  Humph.     That  's  a  strange  thing." 

Mr.  Hollingsworth  walked  to  the  window 
and  looked  around  at  the  roofs  of  the  sur- 
rounding lofty  buildings.  He  waited  till  he 
3aw  that  a  distant  ferryboat  in  the  river  had 


430  A  Princetonian. 

made  her  slip  on  the  Brooklyn  side  in  safety, 
then  he  turned. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  he  said.  "  You  had 
better  come  up  and  dine  with  us  to-night. 
I  am  not  going  to  say  any  more  just 
now." 

This  ended  the  interview. 

Four  months  later  the  society  columns  of 
one  of  the  morning  papers  gave  this  interesting 
bit  of  information.  It  was  true,  all  but  the 
sentence  that  referred  to  Newton  Wilber- 
force  Hart's  worldly  possessions.  It  ran 
thus  : 

"  Miss  Madge  Hollingworth,  who  was  in- 
troduced into  society  some  three  or  four  years 
ago,  is  to  be  married  from  her  father's  country 
place  at  Hilltop  next  Thursday.  The  prospec- 
tive bridegroom,  Mr.  Newton  Wilberforce 
Hart,  is  a  wealthy  young  Westerner,  the  vice- 
president  of  a  large  phosphate  company  in  the 
South.  He  is  a  Princetonian,  and  his  name  is 
well-known  to  all  those  who  have  followed 
football  matters  for  the  last  three  years.  He 
was  only  graduated  this  spring." 

Then  followed  the  names  of  the  bridesmaids, 
and  a  little  "  fine  writing,"  but  the  name  of 


Two  Interviews.  43 1 

the  best  man  was  not  given.  However,  it  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  it  was  another  Princeto- 
nian,  and  his  name  was  Patrick  Corse  Heaphy, 
the  young-man-with-a-purpose. 

FINIS. 


THE   UNIVERSITY   SERIES 

I.  f>art>ar£>    StOriCS.     Sketches  of  the   Undergraduate. 
By  W.  K.  POST.     Fifteenth  edition.     12°,  paper,  50  cts. ; 
cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Not  since  the  days  of  Hammersmith  have  we  had  such  a  vivid  picture 
of  college  life  as  Mr.  W.  K.  Post  has  given  us  in  this  book.  Unpretentious, 
in  their  style,  the  stories  are  mere  sketches,  yet  withal  the  tone  is  so  gen- 
uine, the  local  color  so  truly  '  crimson,'  as  to  make  the  book  one  of  unfait 
ing  interest."— Literary  World. 

II.  U>ale  lame.     ByJ.  S.  WOOD.     Fifth  edition.     Illus- 
trated, 12°,  $1.00. 

"  A  bright,  realistic  picture  of  college  life,  told  in  an  easy  conversational, 
or  descriptive  style,  and  cannot  fail  to  genuinely  interest  the  reader  who 
has  the  slightest  appreciation  of  humor.  The  volume  is  illustrated  and  is 
just  the  book  for  an  idle  or  a  lonely  hour." — Los  Angeles  Times. 

HI.     {TbC    3Babe,    JB.B.     Stories   of   Life  at  Cambridge 
University.     By   EDW.    F.    BENSON.     Illustrated,    12°, 
fr.oo. 
'•  The  story  tells  of  the  every-day  life  of  a  young  man  called  the  Babe. 

.    .     .    Cleverly  written  and  one  of  the  best  this  author  has  written." — 

Leadtr,  New  Haven. 

IV.     B  prinCCtOnian.     A  Story  of  Undergraduate  Life  at 
the  College  of  New  Jersey.     By  JAMES  BARNES.     Illus- 
trated, 12°,  $1.25. 
*'  it  is  fresh,  hearty,  sensible,  and  readable,  leaving  a  good  impression 

of  college  life  upon  the  mind." — Baltimore  Sun. 

BY   ANNA   KATHARINE  GREEN 

ftbe  XeaV>eil  WOttb  Case.     A  Lawyer's  Story.     4°,  paper, 

20  cts. ;  16°,  paper,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"...  Told  with  a  force  and  power  that  indicate  great  dramatic  talent 
in  the  writer."— St.  Louis  Post. 

Datlfc  aitO  "Ring.     Popular  edition.     4°,  paper,  20  cts.;  16*. 

paper,  illustrated,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  The  best,  most  intricate,  most  perfectly  constructed,  and  most  fasci- 
nating  detective  story  ever  written." — Utica  Herald. 
£bat    affair    IRejt    DOOr.     Hudson   Library,   No.    17. 

Seventh  edition.     16°,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 
"The  success  of  this  is  something  almost  unprecedented.      Its  startling 
ingenuity,  sustained  interest,  and  wonderful  plot  shows  that  the  author's 
hand  has  not  lost  its  cunning." — Buffalo  Inquirer. 

%00t  flfcan'0  Xatie.     Hudson  Library,  No.  29,  16°,  paper, 
50  cts. ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

Other  works  by  Anna  Katharine  Green  are  as  follows  :  "A 
Strange  Disappearance,"  "  The  Sword  of  Damocles,"  "The 
Mill  Mystery,"  "  Behind  Closed  Doors,"  "  X.  Y.  Z.,"  "  7  to 
12,"  "  The  Old  Stone  House,"  "  Cynthia  Wakeham's  Money," 
"The  Doctor,  His  Wife,  and  the  Clock,"  "Dr.  Izard," 
"  Marked  '  Personal.'  " 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


A  Wholesome,  Thrilling  Story 

/^™                                                                                   "^N 

Dwellers  in  the  Hills 

By 

Melville  Davisson  Post 

Author  of  "  The  Strange  Schemes  of  Randolph  Mason," 
"The  Man  of  Last  Resort,"  etc. 

^                                                                                                            J 

SOME  COMMENTS 

"  Who  does  not  love  a  horse  ?     Here  is  a  story  chiefly  about 
horses,  but  not  a  little  about  scenery.     .     .     The  author's  vig- 
orous style  well  reflects  a  man's  mature  but  always  ardent  pas- 
sion for  nature.     Mr.  Post's  virile,  terse,  clean-cut  sentences  are, 
with  appropriateness,  printed  clearly."  —  The  Outlook. 

"  Mr.  Post  has  written  a  story  that  is  fresh  and  wholesome  and 
quite  as  full  of  adventure  as  the  average  reader  can  demand.    .    . 
He  impresses  upon  his  reader  with  consummate  skill  the  strong 
fascinations  that  the  mountains  have  for  men  who,  like  the 
writer,  have  spent  many  years  of  their  lives  among  them."  — 
N.Y.  Journal. 

"The  '  Dwellers  in  the  Hills'  promises  to  strike  a  new  note 
in  the  fiction  of  our  country."  —  Commercial  Advtrtiser. 

"It  is  evidently  largely  based  upon  personal  experience,  for 
no  one  could  well  evolve  from  his  unaided  imagination  such 
realistic  incidents,  so  strongly  tinged  with  local  color.      The 
dash  for  the  possession  of  the  cattle  .   .  is  vividly  described  and 
is  very  suggestive  of  some  of  the  wild  scenes  in  'Lorna  Doone.' 
Mr.  Post  has  entered  a  new  field  in  literature  and  we  trust  he 
will  exploit  it  thoroughly.  "  —  Cambridge  Tribuni. 

2d  Impression      Cloth,  12°,  276  pp.,  $1.25 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York                                                         London 

THE  FOREST  SCHOOLMASTER 

By    PETER   ROSEQGER 

Authorized  Translation  by  Frances  E.  Skinner 

]\7O   better  selection   could  have 
been  made  in  introducing  this 

popular   Austrian  novelist  to  Eng- 

lish readers.     It  is  a  strange  sweet 

tale,  this  story  of  an  isolated  forest 

community  civilized  and  regenerated 

by  the  life  of  one  man. 

A  charming  new  book.    Let  none  who 

A  Human 

care  for  good  literature  fail  to  make  ac- 

Document. 

quaintance  with  the  gentle  schoolmaster 

N.  Y.  Times. 

ol  the  forest.  —  Pittsb:;r-  Post. 

A;;  an  exposition  of  primitive  human 

nature  the  book  excels. 

Unique, 

Worcester  Spy. 

Strong, 

Beautiful    and    strong,   strange    and 

Interesting. 

sombre,    "  The   Forest    Schoolmaster  " 

Buffalo  Commercial. 

belongs  to  the  high  class  literature. 

Detroit  Fre*  Press. 

Curiously  interesting  study. 

Beautiful, 

N.  Y.  Commercial,  Advertiser. 

Strong. 

A    pleasing    rendering    of    \!i\^   .nost 

Chicago  Times-Herald. 

popular    romance    of    the    well-known 
Austrian  mountains.  —  Uutlook. 

12mo 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

Price,  $1.50 

PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK                             LONDON 

27  and  29  VV.  23d  St.       24  Bedford  St.,  Strand 

TWO  POWERFUL  NOVELS 


Sons  of  the  Morning 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

Popular  edition  ;  with  frontispiece ;  8°,  $1.50.  Special  Auto- 
graph Edition  ;  limited  to  1000  numbered  copies,  signed  by 
the  author ;  with  view  of  Dartmoor ;  12",  net  .  .  $1.50 

"  '  Sons  of  the  Morning '  is  natural  and  idyllic,  abounding  in  outdoor  en- 
joyments, the  bustle  of  healthy  natures,  most  of  whom  are  so  vital  that  they 
are  unfqrgetable.  There  is  a  literary  charm  in  all  this,  and  a  felicity  of 
description  which  is  rather  felt  than  evident  in  any  specimen  that  might 
be  quoted.  It  is  not  'word  painting'  but  Nature  itself." — RICHARD 
HBNRY  STODDARD  in  the  New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"Here  is  another  of  those  strong,  clean,  vigorous  stories  of  Devonshire 
life  such  as  none  but  Mr.  Phillpotts  could  give  us."— New  York  Commercial 
Advertiser. 

"The  author  has  a  keen  sense  of  humor.  His  story  is  eminently 
readable." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  Here  we  have  not  only  literature,  but  we  have  character  drawing, 
humor,  and  descriptive  powers  that  Blackmore  only  equalled  once,  and 
that  was  in  '  Lorna  Doone.' " — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  It  is  with  a  sense  of  wonder  that  approaches  incredulity  that  we  read  a 
book  which  makes  us  hark  back  to  George  Eliot  for  its  counterpart.  Such  a 
book,  nevertheless,  is  '  Sons  of  the  Morning.'  "—Life. 


Children  of  the  Mist 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

Fifteenth  Impression.    8° $1*50 

Special  Autograph  Edition  ;  limited  to  1000  numbered  copies, 
signed  by  the  author ;  net $z.$o 

R.  D.  BLACKMORK,  the  author  of  "  Lorna  Doone,"  said  of  this : 
' '  Knowing  nothing  of  the  writer  or  of  his  works,  I  was  simply  astonished 
at  the  beauty  and  power  of  this  novel.  But  true  as  it  is  to  life  and  place. 
full  of  deep  interest  and  rare  humor  and  vivid  descriptions,  there  seemed 
to  be  risk  of  its  passing  unheeded  in  the  crowd  and  rush  and  ruck  of 
fiction.  .  .  .  Literature  has  been  enriched  with  a  wholesome,  genial, 
and  noble  tale,  the  reading  of  which  is  a  pleasure  in  store  for  many." 

EDWARD  FULLER,  Literary  Editor  of  the  Providence  Journal  said  of  the 
volume  :  "  If  I  were  to  name  the  best  novel  I  have  read  I  should  unhesitat- 
ingly put  down  '  Children  of  the  Mist. '  It  has  a  touch  of  Hardy  ;  it  has  a 
touch  of  Blackmore ;  and  yet  it  is  fresh  and  original  and  powerful." 

"A  strong,  wholesome,  delightful  tale.  A  captivating  romance."  — 
Brooklyn  Union. 


0f  a 

By  MYRTLE  REED.     12°,  gilt  top     .        ,        .        $1.75 

"  Miss  Reed's  book  is  an  exquisite  prose  poem— words  strung  on 
thought-threads  of  gold — in  which  a  musician  tells  his  love  for  one 
whom  he  has  found  to  be  his  ideal.  The  idea  is  not  new,  but  the 
opinion  is  ventured  that  nowhere  has  it  been  one-half  so  well 
carried  out  as  in  the  '  Love  Letters  of  a  Musician.'  The  ecstacy  of 
hope,  the  apathy  of  despair,  alternate  in  these  enchanting  letters, 
without  one  line  of  cynicism  to  mar  the  beauty  of  their  effect." — 
Rochester  Herald. 

Sate*  ^oxrje  Jitter*  of  a  Ufcusictau 

By  MYRTLE  REED.     12°,  gilt  top      .        .        .        $1.75 

"  It  was  with  considerable  hesitation  that  Myrtle  Reed's  second 
volume  of  a  musician's  love  letters  was  taken  up,  a  natural  inference 
being  that  Miss  Reed  could  scarcely  hope  to  repeat  her  first  success. 
Yet  that  she  has  equalled,  if  not  surpassed,  the  interest  of  her  earlier 
letters  is  soon  apparent.  Here  will  be  found  the  same  delicate 
fancy,  the  same  beautiful  imagery,  and  the  same  musical  phrases 
from  well-known  composers,  introducing  the  several  chapters,  and 
giving  the  key  to  their  various  moods.  Miss  Reed  has  accomplished 
her  purpose  successfully  in  both  series  of  the  letters." — N.  Y.  Times 
Saturday  Review. 

of  a  grjeamjev 

By  ALICE  DEW-SMITH,  author  of  "  Soul  Shapes,"  "  A 
White  Umbrella,"  etc.     12°,  gilt  top    .         .         $1.50 

"  A  book  to  be  read  as  a  sedative  by  the  busy  and  overworked. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  England,  and  is  bathed  in  a  peculiarly  English 
atmosphere  of  peace  and  leisure.  Contains  much  domestic  philos- 
ophy of  a  pleasing  if  not  very  original  sort,  and,  incidentally,  no  lit- 
tle good-natured  social  satire." — a,  Y.  Evening  Post. 

"  This  is  a  book  of  the  meditative  order.  The  writer  expresses 
her  thoughts  in  a  manner  that  is  a  delightful  reminder  of  *  Reveries 
of  a  Bachelor '  of  Ike  Marvel.  ...  In  parts  it  is  amusing,  in 
the  manner  of  Mark  Twain's  '  Sketches.*  The  combination  of 
humor  and  sensible  reflection  results  to  the  reader's  delight."— 
Albany  Times  Union. 

"  '  The  Diary  of  a  Dreamer '  is  a  charming  treatment  of  the  every- 
day topics  of  life.  As  in  '  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor '  and  '  Elizabeth 
and  her  German  Garden,'  we  find  an  engaging  presentation,  from 
the  feminine  point  of  view,  of  the  scenes  and  events  that  make  up 
the  daily  living.  The  '  Diary  '  is  one  of  those  revelations  of  thought 
and  feeling  that  fit  so  well  into  the  reader's  individual  experience." 
— Detroit  Free  Press. 

<i.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


/Catherine 
Day 


BY 

ANNA  FULLER 

Author  of  "A  Literary  Courtship, 
"A  Venetian  June"  "  Pratt 
Portraits,"  etc. 


The  characters  in  this  novel  are 
Massachusetts  people  of  brains 
and  breeding  living  in  one  of  the 
pleasant  residential  suburbs  of 
Boston.  The  story  begins  with 
the  childhood  of  the  heroine  and 
of  her  chief  girl  friend  and  in- 
timate, who  plays  an  important 
part  throughout  the  book.  The 
other  persons  closely  concerned  in 
the  action  arc  threenicnofst  lonely 
contrasting  characters,  engaged 
respectively  in  the pursuitof  busi- 
ness, science,  and  amusement; 
and  a  grandmother  who,  at  the 
close  of  the  story,  has  attained 
her  fourscore  years  in  the  vigor- 
ous maintenance  of  the  best  New 
England  traditions. 


G.  P.  Putnam  s  Sons 

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